Because These Things Will Change
by CobaltBlue94
Summary: After a fight with Finn, Rachel decides to abandon Nationals and Quinn goes on a mission to change her mind and get her there before her moment passes by. Along the way, amends are made, dreams are discovered, and relationship changes- for better or worse
1. Part I to II

P I- We Could Have Had It All

I was seething as my hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned even even paler that usual. At least this time it wasn't all my fault. No, this time is was Finn-freaking-Hudson's and his big, thoughtless mouth.

It should have been easy. We could have had an excellent start and been in a winning mood by now. Then Wednesday had happened. . .

_It was just another stupid argument, no different than their arguments usually went. The set list for Nationals was still up in the air (like it had been the year previous) and everyone was supposed to board the plane for New York the next morning. Original songs had been proposed and shot down or put on a list for further consideration, but nothing had been set in stone and competitions began Friday night. _

_ "You guys!" Rachel yelped, although her voice was more frustrated than whiny. "We absolutely __**cannot**__ wait until last minute like we did last year. Our procrastination might have aided in our tragic downfall."_

_ "__**Or**__," Santana began pointedly, and Quinn had a feeling she knew where this was going, "it __**might**__ have been that little lip-lock stunt that Finnocence and you pulled." Rachel's face became full of guilt and she was about to say more, but Santana held up the hand that wasn't intertwined with Brittany's. "Look, I'm not blaming _you_, Berry," the Latina added, sending a glare in Finn's direction. "All I'm saying this that. . . maybe it's time to, I don't know, switch things up a bit?"_

_ It was the first time in a long time that Quinn had heard Santana sound so unsure and kind in front of so many people, but then again, the glee club was closer now than they'd ever been before. And it helped that Quinn herself had given Santana another reason to show Rachel a little respect._

_ Rachel nodded thoughtfully, like she was taking Santana's suggestion into serious consideration. And then Finn spoke up._

_ "What __**exactly**__ are you saying, Santana?" the boy demanded hotly. And not 'hot' in the good way because, well, ew! _

_ "Finn, perhaps it would be wise to take Santana's opinions into account," Rachel told him lightly. "After all, there's so much talent in this club and it may be go-"_

_ "God, Rachel! Whose side are you on anyway?" Finn snapped, getting to his feet and walking to where Rachel stood in front of the rest of them. He was angry and it made Quinn slightly nervous and protective of the girl._

_ "I'm on the side of reason, Finn!" Rachel returned with equal anger. "Strange as it is more me to say, Santana has a valid point: our very public kiss in no way helped our improved our chances at Nationals!"_

_ From her seat on the second tier, she could see the minuscule motion of Finn clenching his right fist, and she nudged Sam with her elbow from beside him. The blonde haired boy caught on quickly to what she was gesturing to and stood up, walking to the front to try and diffuse the situation._

_ "Finn, calm down," Sam told him, stepping between the two and sending Quinn a look that clearly said 'this might not end well'. _

_ "Dude, back off," Finn retaliated, pushing Sam's shoulder. "This has nothing to do with you." The giant boy turned back to his girlfriend, "What is with you lately, huh? You're always taking everyone else's side but mine, it's not okay with me!"_

_ Quinn rose from her seat when she saw Rachel's face begin to flush slightly purplish. She knew that sign, in fact she'd been the one to provoke it so many times over the years that it made her sick to think about it. Rachel was angry, upset, and feeling defensive—she was emotional and she was about to start crying, but she was holding it in as best she could. _

_ Rachel's hands balled into fists at her sides. "What's up with me?" she mimicked him incredulously. "What's wrong with you, Finn Hudson? Just because we are in a relationship does not mean that I must always share __**your**__ opinions! And as for taking sides, this is a club – we're a __**team**__, we're all on the same side. Santana's or Sam's or Puck's or Quinn's opinions and preferences are just as important as yours and mine."_

_ Stealthily, Quinn knelt down on her way to the floor to whisper to Puck and Santana, "He's getting angry at her, if Finn starts anything with either Sam or Rachel – you have my full approval on going __**all**__ Lima Heights on his ass." She shared a knowing look with the Latina and the Mohawk-haired boy, before continuing her way into the tense argument. _

_ She lightly touched the back of Rachel's arm, willing the smaller girl to unclench her hands and calm down. "Okay, guys," she said to all of them, "look, we're all a little stressed out and frustrated about Nationals. Let's just take a deep breath and step back for a second, alright?" As she said this, she tugged Rachel's elbow to literally make the diva take a step away from her furious boyfriend. _

_ Obviously that was the wrong move to make because Finn grabbed Rachel's wrist and pulled her behind him as he rounded on Quinn. "And what are you trying to get at here, Quinn?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. "I don't know why you suddenly have this weird obsession over Rachel-"_

_ "Finn!" the brunette exclaimed in shock._

_ "But it needs to stop, __**now**__," Finn continued as if Rachel had never objected. "Just because Rachel's blind to the fact that you're a manipulative bitch who's preying on her because she has no friends-"_

_ "Excuse me?" Quinn replied, trying to control her HBIC temper that had never seemed to change even as her other traits had._

_ "A year ago you could've cared less about glee club or Nationals or Rachel. In fact, I know that you were planning on sabotaging us before we even started," he yelled. _

_ Quinn glanced to Santana and Brittany and both of them looked just as confused as she was, then she looked at Rachel and what she saw there made her stop breathing – betrayal. _

_ "So why try to keep the peace now?" Finn continued to rage. "You've never done __**anything**__ unless there was something in it for you. So what do you want now, huh? To win? To get back on everyone's good side so you can screw it all up again?"_

_ She could feel something shattering inside of her. What that really the way they all saw her? And how the hell had Finn known about Nationals last year? The only people who had known were Brittany, Santana, and herself. Tears were welling up in her eyes now._

_ "Finn, man, just leave her alone, alright?" Sam said, stepping between the two to defend Quinn. "She's just trying to help. We're not getting anywhere by fighting and tearing each other down."_

_ "Nobody asked you," Finn said to the boy, shoving him away and causing him to knock Quinn backwards._

_ Even as Quinn hit the linoleum tiled floor, she was getting back to her feet, as a chorus of 'Oh my God' s and 'Finn, what are you doing?' s rang out over the room, but two voices were louder than the others._

_ "Quinn!" Rachel tried to rush toward her but Finn captured her wrist and held her back._

_ "Are you okay?" Sam asked, gripped her forearms and helping her up._

_ "I'm fine," she said, brushing his hands away gently._

_ "Finn, let go of me this instant!" Rachel yelled as she tried to free herself from Finn's grip._

_ Sam stepped forward and grabbed his wrist just as Quinn took Rachel's, and tried to push the tiny girl behind her protectively. The diva would have none of it and only stood beside Quinn as Finn shoved Sam yet again._

_ Except Sam fought back this time. "Dude, whatever you issue is, you need to get over it!" he told Finn, pushing him back and harder. Sam was strong and solid, not as tall as Finn but in no means gangly either. _

_ Finn brought his fist up to swing at Sam, but Santana and Puck decided to finally cut in. Santana stopped Finn's fist from colliding with Sam's face just in time, and Puck put the boy in a straight-jacket lock from behind. _

_ Everything was silence for a few moments before Finn started yelling, "Dammit, Rachel! What is wrong with you? Are you honestly so naive that you think that Quinn- the girl who's always hated your guts- __**really**__ wants to be __**your**__ friend? Look around, Rach, all anyone in here has ever tried to do is hurt you. I'm the only one who's always cared about you!"_

_ Quinn could see that the strong front which Rachel had been putting up was now falling to pieces and tears spilled from her eyes. All Quinn wanted to do was tell her that that wasn't true, that they all cared about her, but she and everyone else were still too stunned into silence to say anything at all. _

_ "You know what?" Rachel spat. "You forget you, Finn! Forget all of you! I hope you get all you deserve at Nationals." The brunette threw her bag over her shoulder and picked up her folder of sheet music. "Have a nice life." Then she turned on her heel and left the choir room. _

_ Quinn was the first to move, and she whirled around and smacked Finn across the face harder than she'd slapped Rachel on prom night in the bathroom. She raced out of the room just as Mr. Schue and Shelby Corcoran were walking in, and she ignored their attempts at stopping her in favor of chasing Rachel down. _

_ She burst through the doors to the student parking lot and spotted Rachel hurriedly trying to unlock her car as tears blinded her vision. "Rachel!" she yelled, running toward the girl just as she'd finally managed to unlock her car. _

_ "Go away, Quinn!" Rachel screamed at her as Quinn approached her. "God, how could I have been so __**stupid**__! Thinking that you'd changed, that you really wanted to be my friend!" She turned around to face her car and grabbed at the door handle, got into her car and started the engine. _

_ "Rachel!" Quinn yelled out to her. "Rachel, stop!", but Rachel was already taking off and all Quinn could do was stand there and watch her drive away._

That morning when they all met up at the airport, Quinn was praying that she'd find Rachel. She stood next to Santana and Brittany, the former sending Quinn (what she still considered to be) uncharacteristically sympathetic glances. Her hazel eyes kept watching the door, waiting for the diva to come striding through the doors with all three of her pink, bedazzled suitcases and that soft look on her face.

"Quinn, may I speak to you?" Shelby called her attention away from the door and back to reality. The blonde just nodded in return and followed her away from the others.

The two had been getting along lately, Shelby and Quinn. It was a strange feeling, becoming close with the adoptive-mother of her daughter who she'd tried to sabotage and ruin, but she was and Shelby was allowing her a second chance to do that. And Shelby becoming closer to her seemed to have made the older woman realize that she wanted another chance to be close with Rachel as well.

It was a strange situation Shelby and Quinn had gotten themselves into. The adoptive mother of her biological daughter was also her friend's biological mother, and therefore Quinn's biological daughter was Rachel's adopted-sister. But they made it work, all three of them together, along with Puck and (strangely enough) Judy Fabray.

Shelby looked at her with a concerned look that no longer seemed patronizing. "I know you ran out after Rachel yesterday," she began. "Did you speak to her?"

Quinn shook her head guiltily. "I couldn't stop her," she managed to croak out, because A) it was seven am and she was exhausted from tossing and turning and thinking about the hurt expression on Rachel's face all night, and B) she kind of wanted to cry just then.

She nodded her head, hearing Quinn's words. "I tried to call her last night," Shelby told the blonde in a pensive tone. "Hiram picked up the phone. He said she didn't want to talk to anyone."

Quinn knew what she meant. Last night, when she'd gone home, Quinn had left Rachel so many texts and voicemails that her fingers had begun blistering and her voicemail box was finally too full to leave any more messages. Then she'd called Rachel's house and Leroy Berry had told her the same thing that Hiram had told Shelby.

Panic started attacking Quinn's lungs as she realized the situation they were in. They were nearing the end of their senior year and New Directions had made it to Nationals – and this time, it was their last shot at being the best. And their biggest, brightest star was too broken to even face them, let alone take them to the top like all the other times. Then it hit her, there was no way she was doing this without Rachel Berry, no way _they_ were doing this without Rachel. They just couldn't shine bright enough without their personal sun.

"I can't do this," Quinn said, vaguely recognizing that Shelby had dragged her numb body toward the terminal with the others. She looked up at the stunned faces of all of her friends, and their two mentors. "Guys, I think I have a plan, but it kind of involves not getting on that plane."

"Quinn," Mr. Schuester began tiredly, "what are you talking about?"

Quinn took a deep breath. "Mr. Schue, we got extraordinarily lucky at Sectionals, but we all know that we _can't_ take Nationals without Rachel and this is our last chance. It's _her_ last chance, and I won't let her miss out on it because _**Finnept**_ was a hurtful, moronic dick."

"Hey, I just-" Finn began, but Mr. Schue held him back.

"What are you suggesting, Quinn?" their teacher asked half-hopeful and half-suspicious.

A small smirk worked its way into her face. "I'm suggesting that the rest of you get on that plane," I began, "and I'll get Rachel- even if I have to _drag_ her to New York- and we'll meet you there. _With_ a set list."

"What if this doesn't work out, Q?" Santana asked, but not in her usual bitch-tone. "I mean, it's bad enough if we don't have Berry, but we're screwed without a set-list."

"Improvise like we always do," she suggested with a shrug, "but I _will_ get Rachel and we will be there on time."

Mr. Schue looked torn, technically, everything she was suggesting was not only against protocol but also against all rules and regulations. "Quinn, I really can't let you do this," he sighed. "But I'm going to anyway."

Quinn's face lit up like the fourth of July. "Thank you, I won't let you down, I swear."

Santana wrapped her arms around Quinn's shoulders and whispered in her ear, "Go get her, bitch."

In the next instant, Quinn had pulled her keys from her pocket and begun sprinting toward her car.

P II- No Stop Signs or Speed Limits, Nobody's Gonna Slow Me Down

Quinn was pounding on the Berrys' door nearly as hard as her heart was pounding in her chest. And she was still knocking and out of breath when the door swung open and two bleary-eyed men in robes opened the door.

"Can we help you?" the African-American man asked her. This was Hiram, if Quinn remembered correctly.

"I'm am so sorry for waking you both, Mr. and Mr. Berry," Quinn told them sincerely, "but I'm looking for Rachel. It's _really _important."

The two men looked at each other with indecipherable expressions, but it looked like they were fighting not to smile. The shorter, bespectacled man- Leroy- pulled the door back and stepped aside so that Quinn might enter.

"It's nice to finally meet you officially, Miss Fabray," Leroy told her, smirking just like Rachel did when she didn't want to show amusement but couldn't contain herself. "Not to be rude, but would you mind telling us the nature of this rather early visit?"

Quinn tore her eyes from the pictures of Rachel on the mantle. She'd only been to Rachel's a handful of times and had never really appreciated the quaint, cozy feeling of the house. Usually Rachel invited her over when Leroy and Hiram were both out on dates or business conferences.

"Yes, Rachel," Quinn remembered, ashamed that she'd gotten distracted in the first place. "She needs to come to Nationals, sir. This- it's. . .. I mean, this is _Rachel Berry_ we're talking about here, Rachel Berry and National Show Choir Competitions. We need her, but even more than that, _she_ needs _this_." She looked at both of Rachel's fathers in turn. "She's a star, you both must know that," Quinn continued, "and this is _her_ moment to _shine_."

Hiram sighed and rubbed his left temples with two fingers. "Believe us, Miss Fabray-"

"Please, Quinn."

The dark-skinned man smiled. "_Quinn_, believe us when we say that we've tried, but we've never seen her like this."

Quinn nodded. "I don't know how much you know about what happened yesterday, sirs, but I don't blame her. Finn said a lot of really terrible things, and- although I know that Rachel is an advocate for non-violence- I could have killed that boy," the blonde admitted. "We all too shocked to say anything, we were taken off-guard and none of us had enough sense to tell her that he wasn't right, that it wasn't true.  
>"I just. . .," Quinn breathed out a shaky breath, "I just know. . . that nothing I say will change her mind." And here came the awkward part. "So I'm kind of here to ask you both. . . if it would be alright . . . if I kinda. . . kidnapped Rachel, and took her to New York with me?"<p>

Leroy's expressive eyes lit up, but not in a bad way. Perhaps a bit taken aback, but not angry like Quinn had expected.

"So let me get this straight, Quinn," Hiram began uncertainly, "you want to. . ." He couldn't even finish the statement, so Quinn finished it for him.

"I want to drag Rachel on a road trip to New York with me," she reiterated for him. "It's too late to catch a flight. But I've had my license for nearly two years – no accidents, speeding tickets, or traffic violations, but a parking ticket because I lost track of time and left my car in a two-hour parking spot for three hours. My fuel tank is full, my oil has been changed, I have _two_ spare tires in my trunk. There's a cooler packed with food and drinks—non-alcoholic, of course—in my backseat, along with an emergency kit-"

"Quinn, Quinn!" Leroy laughed. "We can clearly see that you've thought this through very impeccably." He smiled at his husband and took his hand, the two exchanged a look that made them seemed as if they were having some sort of telepathic conversation.  
>They turned back to her and Leroy finished, "If you want to 'kidnap' Rachel and take her to New York, then her suitcases are- if I'm not mistaken- still packed and upstairs in her room. She's at the school, most likely in the auditorium."<p>

Quinn let out a breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding and shook both of the Berrys' hands. "Thank you, thank you so much."

"Take care of her," Hiram instructed Quinn seriously, "if anything happens to her. . ."

"You won't have to hunt me down, Mr. Berry," the blonde told him solemnly, "I'll be standing on you front-porch again, waiting for you to do what you will."

Quinn ran up the stairs with a gigantic smile on her face.

Leroy turned to his husband and wrapped his arms are the man. "I like that one," he commented. "She seems to have grown up quite a lot in a fairly short amount of time. Rachel will be safe with her."

Hiram kissed the top of his husband's head. "Yeah, I like her too."


	2. Part III and IV

**A/N: Guys, I gotta say, I wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic response, so I have to thank you for that. Special thanks to an Anon who pointed out some grammatical error, I'm not being sarcastic because I really need someone to critique my work . Thanks for all the encouragement, if you have any suggestions for what you would like to see happen, you may always PM me.**

**A/N: Also, when they're singing, **_Rachel is in italics, _**Quinn is in bold, **_**both is obviously for the two of them together**_.

Prt III- Sometimes Love Doesn't Feel Like It Should, You Make It Hurt So Good

Rachel allowed her fingers to run slowly over the keys of the piano, contemplating all that had happened the day before and where New Directions was now. She wondered bitterly how their set list was coming as her phone beeped, yet again signaling a text.

**1 New Message**

**Brittany S. Pierce: where r u, rachy? Sanny says u never got on the plane and u arent coming 2 NY, but I told her that was silly, rite? **

The brunette couldn't hold back a sigh. It was one of many texts that she'd received this morning. Finn trying to justify his actions; Kurt threatening to come to her house if she didn't leave herself and then ranting because she'd lied and said she would be there and wasn't; Sam apologizing for what had happened and informing her that Mercedes was about to out-diva her; Puck and even Santana trying to coax her back into coming, although she assumed that the latter was solely interested in winning.

Her fingers went back to the piano and she noticed that there was sheet music laying on its glossy surface. She picked it up and began striking up the chords from the song on the piano. The notes drifted through the air as she began to follow the lyrics as well.

_"Insecure, in her skin_

_ Like a puppet, a girl on a string_

_ Broke away, learned to fly_

_ If you want her back, gotta let her shine_

_ Well it looks like the joke's on you_

_ 'Cause the girl that you thought you knew_

_**She's-**_

_ "_**So gone. . .**

** That's so over now**

** She's so gone**

** You won't find her around"**

Rachel turned to see the source of the voice, who'd walked up the the steps on the opposite side of the stage. Each of Quinn's footsteps echoed the beat of the song.

**"You can look**

** But you won't see**

** The girl I used to be**

** 'Cause she. . . **she's so gone.**"**

"Quinn," Rachel breathed in surprise. Her gentleness, however, dissipated and her face turned angry and guarded. "Shouldn't you be on your way to New York with the others?" she demanded haughtily.

The blonde's striking hazel eyes paralyzed Rachel, locking the diva's brown orbs onto them. "Shouldn't you?" Quinn countered smoothly.

Rachel slammed the lid over the keys on the piano, causing a loud jangling sound to resonate across the auditorium. "I'm not discussing this with you," she stated defiantly. Looking at the other girl with a mixture of betrayal and heartache in her eyes she added, "You should have gotten on that plane, Quinn." Rising from the piano stool, Rachel slung her back over her shoulder and bolted from the room.

Quinn grabbed the sheet music and followed her out into the parking lot. "Rachel!" she yelled after the retreated brunette. "Dammit, Rachel! I'm not letting you leave here. You ran away from me yesterday and I'm not letting that happen again!"

"What do you care, Quinn?" Rachel screamed back, her voice broken and tearful.

The brunette reached her car and tried to open the door but she'd barely opened it a crack before the other girl also put her hand on it and snapped it firmly shut again. Quinn braced herself with one hand against the window and one hand holding the door closed. Rachel stood with her back to Quinn, trapped between the car and the encompassment of the blonde's arms. She put her face in her hands and sobbed desperately.

"Please just let me go," the smaller girl wept in a heart-wrenching voice.

She felt Quinn rest her cheek against the back of Rachel's shoulder blade and shake her head. "I can't," she whispered back softly. "Rachel, I am **so** sick of running and hiding from problems and from people when all I should really do is stay and just talk it out.  
>"So no, I can't just let you go. Not while you're so upset. I'm staying <strong>right here<strong> until you talk to me, and until you give me a chance to talk to you."

They stood in silence for several minutes, with Quinn's cheek resting against Rachel's shoulder and Rachel holding herself.

"We'll look very odd to the people who can see us out here," Rachel cleared her voice, "you know, in this position. . . they might think-"

"Screw what they think, Rachel," Quinn told her softly. "All I'm doing is trying to calm my friend down."

Quinn cautiously removed her hands from Rachel's car, as if afraid that Rachel might make a break for it as soon as she was no longer trapped in Quinn's arms; but Rachel had no intentions of running, especially as Quinn began running her hands up and down her arms reassuringly.

"You're really my friend?" Rachel asked hesitantly.

"If you want me to be," Quinn replied.

Rachel turned around to face Quinn, her brown eyes still shining with tears. "You don't hate me?" she cried.

"I don't hate you," Quinn confirmed, shaking her head. "I've **never** hated you, Rachel. I was afraid of you. I was afraid of wanting to be your friend and actually **being** your friend. . . and going back to being Lucy Caboosey. I'm just sorry that it took me as long as it did to figure that out, and I am _**so**_ sorry. . . for everything I put you through. You deserved better."

The brunette slid her arms around Quinn's waist just as another wave of tears hit her, and she clung to the blonde like a life line. Quinn obviously wasn't very practiced at providing comfort to friends, but just being held and coddled tightly and having her back rubbed while someone whispered reassurances to her was enough for Rachel. Quinn did exactly enough for Rachel, enough to comfort and support her but not so much that the placation felt insincere or patronizing.

And, finally, when Rachel was done crying and left with nothing but exhaustion, she squeezed Quinn extra tight and loosened her hold on the girl, but didn't let go completely. "I'm sorry that I didn't give you a chance yesterday, Quinn. It's just that Finn. . . he- he just struck a nerve, a fear that I have."

"I understand," Quinn said solemnly, locking her eyes onto Rachel's. "And you have every right to not feel completely certain about our friendship, Rach. But you don't have anything to be afraid of. This isn't some sick joke or challenge, and I am not using you or taking advantage."  
>The blonde's adamant face softened into a pleading glance. "I just want to be able to graduate in a few months and say that I came out of high school with one <em>real<em> friend. One real friend that loves me unconditionally, no matter how psychotic or damaged I might be. A friend who's stood by through the good and the bad and everything in between. A friend like you, Rachel, because I've been _**so**_horrible to you and yet you've stood by me through everything." Quinn's eyes had misted up a bit and she took a shuddering breath, swiped the tears away embarrassedly, and let out a whispery laugh.

Rachel cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "So, um, what _are_ you still in Lima for, Quinn?" she asked curiously. "Not that I'm not happy to see you and everything, it's just that-"

"I got to the airport and realized I'd left something really important behind," Quinn interjected before the Rachel-ramble could proceed any further.

The brunette's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Whatever you left behind, couldn't you just get another one once you got to New York?" Rachel questioned.

Blonde locks flew everywhere as Quinn shook her head in the negative. "What I left behind is irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind; it can't be found anywhere else."

Rachel looked more perplexed now than ever. "Well, what did you leave behind, might I ask?"

A very Rachel-esque smile lit up Quinn's demure features as she said softly, "You."

"Me?" the other girl asked incredulously. "_I'm_ the really important something that you left behind?" Quinn nodded firmly, and Rachel threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "Quinn, this is absolutely ridiculous! Now we stand even less a chance of winning than before with both of us out of the choir!"

"But we're _not_ out of the choir, Rachel," the blonde argued. "Or at least, we won't be in. . ."—Quinn checked her watch—"roughly fifteen hours, give or take."

The diva posed with her hands on her hips and an unpleased expression on her face. "If you've come here to drag me to New York for Nationals, Quinn— forget about it! Hell will freeze over before I spend fifteen hours in a car to go somewhere that I have no desire to go. No. Absolutely not."

Quinn shrugged and replied, "Well, I hope those Hell-dwellers have parkas. Because we _are_ going to New York because, if you don't, you'll wing up regretting it for the rest of your life because you'll have missed your moment to shine all because of Finnept Head-Douche."  
>She matched Rachel's stance elbow-for hip and narrowed her eyes in her best HBIC way. The little diva refused to back down so easily. "There are two ways we can do this Rachel. 1, you willingly get into my car and <em><strong>relax<strong>_,"—Quinn counted on her fingers—"or, 2, I can _drag_ you into my car and safety-lock the car until we reach Manhattan. Either way,"—Quinn leaned in close to Rachel's face—"you _**are**_ coming with me."

"You would really kidnap me?" Rachel asked dubiously. "To take me to _Show Choir Nationals_? Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound right now?"

One of Quinn's eyebrows quirked upwards in her signature expression. "Okay, first of all, I have _both_ of your fathers' permission to kidnap you for Show Choir Nationals. Secondly, it's for your own good."

The gears almost visibly turned in Rachel's head. On the drop of a dime, the diva whirled around, opened her door, and was about to get into her car, before realized that her feet were no longer on the ground; all she could see was the open back of Quinn's navy sundress which showcased the fair-haired girl's strong bare shoulders and upper back muscles. Quinn had thrown Rachel over her shoulder and begun carrying her toward the other girl's car.

"Drag and safety-locks it is then," she heard Quinn mutter. The sound of a door being open came just before Rachel was unceremoniously deposited into the passenger seat and Quinn was securing her seatbelt. As the blonde began to pull back, she whispered closely into Rachel's ear, "You forget that two can play at this game, and that I'm _very_ competitive." With that, Quinn closed the door.

Rachel tried to unbuckle her seatbelt but was taken by surprise when the thing wouldn't release. She pushed the button and shook the clip and tugged on it as much as she could, not even realizing when Quinn got into the car.

The blonde smirked victoriously. "You can fight with it all you want, Rach, it's not coming undone," she laughed, holding her keys up and displaying the seatbelt lock button on the remote.

"Quinn Fabray, release me this very second!" Rachel demanded angrily.

Quinn blatantly ignored her and pulled out her cell-phone before speaking into it. "Hello, Mr. Berry. . .-

"Papa! Daddy!"

"Yeah, she was right in the auditorium. . . I've got her in my car now, we're about to head out-" Quinn continued, as if she couldn't hear her.

"No, we are mostly certainly _not_, Quinn Fabray!" Rachel shrieked.

"Yes, she's not exactly happy about it, but she'll thank us for it later," the blonde shared a laugh with one of the Berry men.

Giving up on trying to break free of her restraints, Rachel crossed her arms over her chest petulantly and muttered loud enough for the girl and her own father to hear, "We'll see about that!"

"Her car's still sitting in the lot. I mean, a lot of the others' cars are, but kids are idiots and I don't want them to do any damage to it-"

"I swear, if anything happens to Patty The Car, I will never forgive any of you," Rachel added.

"Okay, thank you for all your help, Mr. Berry!" Quinn said cheerfully (At which point Rachel pulled a face while mimicking her childishly). "I'll have Rachel home, safe and sound, on Sunday afternoon. . . Okay, I will. . . Bye." The blonde turned happily to Rachel, as if the brunette was in someway joining in the jubilant moment. "By the way, your dads say that they love you."

Rachel was so angry that her face turned purple, and she could have sworn smoke was billowing from her ears.

Part IV – Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light, GO

**"I wanna rock 'n' roll all ni-i-ight **

** And party everyday!"**

Quinn sang as loudly as as badly as she possibly could without causing herself aural damage. Rachel's ear-training was becoming nearly impossible to ignore, especially when it was herself who was screeching lyrics. She had no choice, Rachel hadn't spoken a word to her since they'd left the school– and that had been two hours ago.

If there was one thing in the world that Rachel couldn't stand not to critique though, it was music.

"Are you really _**trying**_ to sing badly?" Rachel erupted after twenty minutes straight of the tinny screaming that only barely resembled actual singing.

Another victorious smile was on Quinn's face when she met Rachel's gaze. "In fact, I am," she returned proudly. Rolling her eyes, she added, "Jeez, thank _**God**_ you finally caved. I was giving myself a headache."

Anger boiled up inside Rachel once more. "You _were_ trying to sing badly!" she exclaimed. "And in order to provoke me no less."

"Nothing gets past you, Rach," Quinn muttered sardonically. Her eyes met Rachel furious glance and her smug expression fell into one of pleading. "Aww, c'mon, Rachel. What was I supposed to do? You wouldn't talk to me, and I was getting bored of not being spoken to."

"Clearly it never occurred to you that the reason I withheld conversation was because I was angry at you," Rachel seethed, but she knew Quinn could hear it in her voice. The unmistakable crack that indicated her tears.

Everything about Quinn softened in that moment. "Rachel? A-are you crying?"

"Yes, I am, because I am so _furious_ with you right now, Quinn Fabray!"

With the minimal subtlety that she had, Quinn pulled over to the shoulder of the road and looked at Rachel in the late afternoon sunlight filtering in through the car window. Hearing the click of Quinn unfastening her seatbelt, Rachel looked over to see Quinn staring full on at her.

"Why did you pull over?" the diva demanded. "And _**why**_ are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I am not moving this car until you tell me, what's in New York that you're so afraid of?" Quinn shot right back, although her voice held no frustration or moodiness. Just concern, Rachel noticed.

Stubborn as per usual, Rachel tugged the red beret further onto her head and angled her body to look out the window at the springtime sunlight and the winding road.

She heard a violent sound and her attention was piqued by Quinn slamming her fists into the steering wheel with a feral growl of frustration. Rachel was a little afraid when Quinn turned back to her, hazel eyes glowing light brown in desperation as she shrieked, "Dammit, Rachel! Just talk to me, okay? That's all I'm asking of you!"

Rachel still remained silent and somber, and Quinn sighed.

"Fine, Berry, you can refuse to talk to me if you want to, but either way- we're still going to New York. Because, no matter what Finn or you or Mr. Schuester or anyone else says, this is our last chance to make it all together. It's _your_ moment to shine and I'll be damned if I let you ruin that for yourself."

Quinn turned the radio up and 'Don't Rain On My Parade' came on, flowing tenuously from Quinn's iPod and through the speakers.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_** So now they're on their way to New York, and Rachel is *not* happy about it. Don't worry Quinn isn't out of tricks yet ;) More action is yet to come in the next couple of parts. Let comments, reviews, whatever you want.**_


	3. Part V & VI

_**Okay, so *this* is the chapter I've been trying to move towards because this and the scene where Quinn is dragging Rachel to her car are the ones that were originally in my head for this story. Unfortunately, seeing as how I am *extremely* impatient for this scene, I don't think there will be many more chapters of **_** Because These Things Will Change **_**but I certainly am happy that you're enjoying them while they last. **_

_**Thanks to faberrydragon and w1cked for their encouragement!**_

_**Smartblonde317—Ssh! I'm getting there. Patience, my friend ;-)**_

_**Nightlancer600- It certainly will be. This chapter here is dedicated to you, as I'm sure you will enjoy it =)**_

Part V—Next We're Moving On

Quinn was exhausted. Most of her energy was drained from driving for nine hours straight, her legs were beginning to cramp up, her head was throbbing and her eyes felt no better—worst of all, she was hungry.

Her passenger, on the other hand was fast asleep with her brunette head against the cool pane of glass and a throw blanket, which Quinn had grabbed from behind her, placed over Rachel's shoulders after the darkness had begun settling in and goosebumps appeared on the girl's bronze arms.

In all honesty, the whole reason why Quinn hadn't stopped yet was because she didn't want to wake the brunette from her peaceful oblivion. Rachel was even kind of. . . okay, she was _adorable_ when she slept and the thought of that made Quinn's stomach spiral and her head feel foggy. She was electing not to focus too much on that right now, though.

She pulled up to a rest stop and restaurant and put the car in park before turning off the engine. She still hated the idea of waking Rachel, but she was sure that Rachel needed to be woken. They were still a good eight hours from the lights of Manhattan, and Rachel had refused to eat anything just to spite Quinn. How the diva reasoned that plan was beyond her, but she did suppose that it incited a strong worry in her, probably stronger than any hunger that Rachel felt.

Grabbing her keys from the ignition, phone from its charger and jackets for both her and the brunette, Quinn climbed out of her car and walked around to open Rachel's door. She managed to catch Rachel's sleeping head before it lolled enough to stir her, and sat on the edge of the passenger seat next to the sleeping form of her friend.

"Rachel. Sweetie, wake up, okay? No more turning down food, you're really starting to worry me," Quinn told her, rousing her gently until brown eyes fluttered open. She pressed a discreet kiss into Rachel's hair before she fully came to, and squeezed her shivering form a bit tighter.

"Where are we?" Rachel husked sleepily, and if that wasn't the sexiest damn sound Quinn had ever heard then she didn't know who she was.

Despite her earlier frustration with Rachel, Quinn was gentle as she ran her hands through dark tresses, pushing the smaller girl's hair away from her face. "Rest area just in central Pennsylvania state," Quinn responded softly, still cradling Rachel's face and playing with her hair. "Are you hungry _now_? Because, honestly Rachel, you can be as angry with me as you want, but please don't do anything that could harm your own well-being. Please."

The sincerity in Quinn's eyes was enough to make Rachel pause breathless. Never before had she ever heard Quinn talk this way with anyone, much less Rachel, even as they'd become closer. "Quinn, I don't exactly have any form of currency on me. I was going to visit the bank when I arrived in New York."

"Rachel, I kidnapped you and am dragging you across the Mid-Atlantic," Quinn pointed out dryly, "the very least I can do is buy you dinner, okay?" The blonde's eyes were fiery, but gentle at the same time and left Rachel with no reservations about the situation.

"O-okay," she faltered. "So. . . food?"

The blonde nodded, "I also need to make a call and re-caffeinate," she mumbled, more to herself than to anyone. She gracefully rose from the car and offered Rachel her hand for help, feeling electrified when Rachel accepted it, and didn't entirely release it as they walked into the establishment.

It was a nice place with a good atmosphere, a live band was playing in the far corner and it seemed like random people ventured up to sing every now and again. Rachel led the way to a comfy booth and sat down and Quinn sat across from her, smiling gratefully.

A waitress came and asked for their drinks; for Rachel, a lemon water and for Quinn, a large iced caramel latte.

For the first time in a few minutes Quinn really looked at Rachel, who was busily reading the menu with rapt attention, and she flashed back to that moment in the car and the thoughts she had pushed aside.

Everything about this year had been a wake-up call for Quinn, going Skank and back to Gleek had given her time to contemplate herself and her traits, her quirks, the things that irritated her about herself. There was nothing so special about her anymore, and she had no mask to hide behind; she wasn't HBIC or a Cheerio anymore, she wasn't a pregnant teen, she wasn't a Skank, and she wasn't Beth's real mom. She was just Quinn.

But, in all of that, she managed to get real with herself, to get _over_ herself as Puck had angrily told her to do. And, in all of that, she realized that she wasn't in love with Finn or Puck, she didn't hate Shelby Corcoran or any of the glee kids, all she wanted was all she had ever really craved— for one person to love her. Unconditionally, like Beth might have if Quinn had kept her daughter.

And then, she had realized, one person did—Rachel. She had torn Rachel down time after time, and yet every single time Quinn's life had been falling apart, there had been Rachel with an offer to help her. It didn't matter what she'd done or how horrible she had been, Rachel was still there. For God's sake, she'd slapped the girl across the face at prom and Rachel had _comforted __**her**_! She had done nothing but make Rachel's life miserable and Rachel had never done anything but tried to befriend her in the first place.

So, yes, Rachel loved her unconditionally, or at least cared for her in the same way. And, in her head, Rachel had become her person—the person she ran to, now intentionally and consciously, when she felt like she was slipping back into her psycho-Quinn persona. Now she wanted to make up for all the misery she had put Rachel through, she wanted to be there to make Rachel smile and laugh, and wipe away her tears and troubles, and knock down whoever had the gall to bully her.

She cared about Rachel too.

"What are you thinking about?" The voice drew Quinn suddenly back to the present. She looked up and her eyes connected with familiar warm, liquid-umber orbs.

A smile stretched across her face of its own accord. "You," she answered without thinking. There was something about Rachel that had never made her anything but honest and open.

"Me?" Rachel asked, a bright scarlet blush rising to her bronzed cheeks.

Quinn nodded as calmly as she could. "And me. About us, and our. . . friendship?" she said the last word questioningly, and waited for Rachel's approval before continuing. "It's different now. I like it now. It's like. . . Santana's always been my best friend, for whatever reason I'll never know. But she has. But now there's you and you're. . ."—Quinn eyed Rachel up and down, choosing her phrasing carefully—"_special_, to me. I don't think I'm as close with anyone else as I am with you. I can be honest or. . . me. . . and you don't care, you don't judge even though I've been more than judgmental of you in the past."

"Two wrongs won't ever make a right, Quinn," Rachel returned reasonably. She looked back down to the menu in a nonchalant manner, "Besides, I like to think that my torment at your hands was brought about by teenage identity crisis, peer pressure, and a delusional up-bringing, if I may be so bold as to say."

"Which, clearly, you are," Quinn retorted with dry humor.

They passed a moment in silence, each looking at their menus and Quinn contemplating when would be the best time to contact Shelby and Santana to set her plan in motion.

"I feel the same, you know," Rachel stated suddenly, just as matter-of-fact as always. Quinn looked to her inquiringly, and the diva cleared her throat. "You're very special to me as well, Quinn."

...

Quinn didn't have to contemplate calling to her friends in New York for very long, within five minutes her phone was singing out a slightly mad-libbed rendition of "Valerie", clearly sung by Santana. She looked down to it and then back up to the brunette.

"I gotta take this, if the waitress comes, just order and tell her I'll be around shortly, okay?" The blonde waited for Rachel's tired little nod before reaching over and squeezing her dainty hand.

_Definitely __**not**__ in any way man hands, _she thought to herself, and even her thoughts felt suggestive. She touched the screen of her phone to unlock it and then accepted Santana's call before she could dwell much further.

"San," she said by way of greeting.

"Q, I am actually begging you to tell me that you have our set list ready," the Latina fired immediately. "And you _know_ that I hate begging, unless it's Brittany in—"

"Okay! Too much information about to be divulged here, Santana," Quinn cut her off hurriedly, sitting down at a table in a quaint café on the other side of the complex. "You know that I love you and Brittany, and I think you guys are perfect for each other, and I'm glad you finally got your act together and asked her to be with you and all, but there are somethings that I absolutely do- not- need- to know." She enunciated each word of her last statement firmly.

She could practically hear Santana's smirk bouncing off the cell towers from New York to where she was now. "Oh, like I don't listen to you moan and dream about Berry, Q. Let's be real here," Santana snapped cunningly.

"Will you shut up?" Quinn ordered her in alarm. "It's not just you and me behind closed doors, S, anyone of the gleeks could be listening in on your half of this conversation right now. If Rachel finds out, I'll know who to blame-!"

"Jeez, Quinn, chill out," Santana yelled to make her cease her angry rant. "Sheesh, they're all downstairs having dinner. It's only me, well. . . and Shelby, but that's _no es un problema_." Santana sighed into her end of the phone, "I don't even understand why it's such a big deal if she knows. I mean, now that she an Finnept are _a través de_—"

"San. Stop!" Quinn snapped forcefully, a hint of panic and sorrow in her voice. "Just because she isn't marrying that over-grown idiot, it doesn't mean that I can take a shot at her. It took me this long to become her friend." The blonde let out a shaky sigh, "Now do you want the damn set list or not?"

Santana was quiet for a long time before she finally answered, "Yeah. E-mail them to me, would you?"

"Yes."

"And, for the record, Q— and if you **ever** tell anyone I said this, I will deny it— I think you might be underestimating Rachel a bit," Santana said in one of her rare moments of wisdom and support. "And take into consideration that this is coming from _me_, of all people."

...

Rachel's order had been taken by the waitress ten minutes ago, and Quinn still wasn't back. She watched the live band that was playing in the alcove of the restaurant, feeling a strong sense of misplacement as she did. This whole situation was upsettingly paradoxical, even if she did enjoy the drama of it; Quinn Fabray, her tormentor for years, was now looking out for her best interests and safety as they drove hours from Lima to New York City because she, _Rachel Berry_, had not wanted to go to Show Choir Nationals. What kind of rabbit hole had she fallen down into?

As the band strummed a few opening chords of "Start Me Up", Rachel began singing along and watching them.

"You should get up there," the waitress told her, suddenly appearing from nowhere. She set a new lemon water down in front of Rachel. "You've definitely got the voice for it."

Rachel started, words freezing in her mouth. "I-I can do that?" she asked.

The waitress, Maryanne, as her name tag indicated, nodded with a happy-go-lucky smile that reminded Rachel of Brittany. "Sure can, darling," she informed her cheerfully. "People do it all the time"—she leaned into Rachel to whisper lowly—"and most of 'em couldn't carry a tune in bucket." Maryanne winked and nodded Rachel toward the stage, "Go for it, hon. What have you got to lose?"

….

Rachel wasn't sure why she was doing this, whether it was some form of self-inflicted punishment or to prove something to herself, she couldn't have deciphered. For the first time in, she didn't even know how many years, Rachel Berry was caught with a serious dealing of stage-fright.

The band opened with the intro to "I Love Rock 'n' Roll " from Joan Jett (she was surprised when the twenty-something guitarist suggested it and her band mates agreed eagerly), and Rachel felt like someone was trying to flatten her torso forcefully. She looked at all the people—perfect strangers that she never had before and never would again see in her life—and wondered what they would think of her. Would they recognize that she was a naive and friendless freak? A deluded dreamer?

On instinct, she opened up her mouth and sang,

"_I saw him dancing there by the record machine"_ Her voice was shaky and off-key under the pressure of the strangers' stares, she tried to look for anything that might bring her some comfort—any comfort, as she continued, _"I knew he must have been about seventeen."_ She was failing, and she was about to throw in the towel and give up, when another voice joined her.

"**The beat was going strong, playing my favorite song**" And suddenly, Quinn was there beside her, the ambient lights bouncing off her head and making her blonde locks even lighter.

Quinn sent her a cheeky smile and reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly, nodding her head to the crowd and shaking it before looking at herself and nodding. Rachel beamed brightly, knowing what Quinn was trying to tell her, to look at the blonde and not out at the sea of faces. Just her face and the band members. To forget the pressure and sing like no one what watching, the same way she always did.

"_And I could tell it wouldn't be long_  
><em>till he was with me<em>, _**yeah, me  
><strong>_**And I could tell it wouldn't be long**  
><strong>till he was with me<strong>, _**yeah, me, singin'**_"

They simultaneously turn to face each other full on and sang the chorus_**.**_  
><em><strong>"I love rock 'n' roll<br>So put another dime in the jukebox, baby  
>I love rock 'n' roll<br>So come and take your time and dance with me"**_

Rachel stepped back so that Quinn knew to start the second verse, and she watched in awe as the blonde seemed to lose herself in the song.

"**He smiled, so I got up and asked for his name  
>"That don't matter," he said, "'cause it's all the same."<strong>  
><strong>He said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"<strong>"

Quinn sang as she danced suggestively toward Rachel, swaying her hips and smiling a tiny coy smile.

"**And next we were moving on**  
><strong>and he was with me<strong>_**, yeah, me  
><strong>_**Next we were moving on**  
><em><strong>and he was with me, yeah, me, singin'<strong>_"

Rachel began bouncing on her feet as they sang the chorus again together and danced along with Quinn, reminiscent of the glee club's performance of "Last Friday Night", except without the tables. She took Quinn's hand and they spun around together with giant smiles on their faces, and Rachel honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled that hard.

The tiny diva, now with all her confidence and bravada returned to her, circled around Quinn and sang with a smirk on her face.

"_I said, "Can I take you home where we can be alone?"  
>And next we were moving on<em>_**  
><strong>__and he was with me__**, yeah, me, singin'**_

"_**I love rock 'n' roll  
>So put another dime in the jukebox, baby<br>I love rock 'n' roll  
>So come and take your time and dance with<strong>_

_**I love rock 'n' roll**_  
><em><strong>So put another dime in the jukebox, baby<strong>_  
><em><strong>I love rock 'n' roll<strong>_  
><em><strong>So come and take your time and dance with ME!<strong>_

__"

They had a tumultuous standing ovation and they both thanked the band and walked to their seats, garnering many compliments on their way back. Rachel was still zinging with the adrenaline of performing and the grip that Quinn kept on her hand seemed to be the only thing grounding her to this world.

Before Quinn could sit down, Rachel bravely threw her arms around Quinn's neck and pulled her into a comfortable embrace. The hug wasn't awkward, like it had been with Finn or Jesse or Puck, because Quinn was closer to her height and the blonde also smelled much better, strangely like a pleasant blend of cranberries and lemon. And the best part was that Quinn hugged her back just as hard, actually lifting her off her feet for a moment before setting her back on her toes.

"Thank you. I don't know what came over me, I just… I got scared up there," she told the blonde quietly into her ear.

She felt Quinn shiver as she replied, "I know, I saw you up there and I just… I had to help you." The ex-cheerleader pulled back just far enough to see Rachel's face and a sly smile lit up her beautiful face. "See? You _can_ do this, you can perform, Rach! It's not something anyone can take from you, it's something you were born to do."

Rachel smiled but the world started spinning and she was shaking as she clutched onto Quinn's wrists for support. Her stomach hurt and she felt like she was going to faint.

"Whoa, sweetie," Quinn said, turning the brunette to sit her down on one side of the booth. She slid in next to Rachel and her long, pale fingers smoothed through Rachel's suddenly clammy locks. "Are you okay?"

"Mhm," Rachel hummed, putting on her best brave face, even though she really did feel like she was going to black out. Her vision was spotting and she didn't even notice Quinn giving her her drink until the straw was in her mouth and she was taking long pulls of cold water as the blonde held the glass for her.

Maryanne came back around with Rachel's appetizer, an almond-mandarin salad with raspberry vinaigrette and placed it in front of her. "You feeling alright, hon?" the older woman asked Rachel kindly.

Since Rachel couldn't focus on more than getting something into her stomach, Quinn answered for her. "She's okay, just famished," the blonde offered sweetly. Her hand continued rubbing Rachel's back soothingly. "Singing is kind of her thing. She really puts her all into, and sometimes she comes out a little short on energy."

The waitress nodded understandingly. "And what about you, miss?" she asked, bringing her order pad out again. "What can I get for you, besides another one of those lattes you kids like so much?"

Quinn glanced quickly down at the menu and decided quickly. "I'll have the buttersauce linguine with grilled shrimp and mussels, and a side of breaded mushrooms. And I think I'll actually have a lemon water as well, instead of the caffeine." She looked at Rachel, "And could you possibly manage to swing a non-dairy peanut butter sandwich with banana slices and a protein shake for her?"

Maryanne wrote it all down and smiled at the two girls, "It's good of you to take care of her. You must love her an awful lot."

_Mm, you might be onto something there, Maryanne, _Quinn mused to herself.

...

Part VI- Can't Fight The Moonlight

Rachel laid out on the hood of Quinn's vehicle, looking up at the blazing stars in the sky and listening to the cars on the highway. She replayed every shot of her performance with Quinn in the restaurant, the subtle way that Quinn had nonchalantly walked out on stage and began singing with her, returning her to her true self. Apart from Kurt and her fathers, Rachel had never had anyone who would do that for her, and it felt nice knowing that Quinn would.

"Clearly I've officially lost my mind," Quinn's voice came, hedging on angry but more concerned than anything else, "because I _know_ I'm not looking at my very smart and cautious friend laying out alone, in plain sight, in the parking lot of a _truck stop_ in Pennsylvania where anyone could grab her. And I could've sworn I told you to wait _in_ the car, not on top of it."

"For your information, Quinn, you ask me to 'go to the car' , however, you did not specify further. And how is me laying on the hood of your car in the cover of darkness, by myself, any different from you wandering off alone to take a phone call or restock on supplies? Because I see no difference," Rachel ranted indignantly as she sensed Quinn reach into her car, roll down the windows and turn the radio on.

"Alright, okay, fine," the blonde fired back defensively. She climbed up next to Rachel and laid back as well, "I get your point, okay? But, realistically speaking," she said this knowing that Rachel could not argue with reason, "I was in dance, gymnastics, and on the Cheerios on and off for three years, which means that I'm probably quite a bit stronger than you, _and_ I've taken self-defense classes since I was thirteen-"

"As have I," Rachel interjected.

"_And_, this is not a jibe at your size, but I am quite a bit taller and much less petite than you are," Quinn explained. "I'm less concerned with myself than I am with you, Rachel."

They laid there next to each other in silence. Rachel, for once, was too stunned to speak, and Quinn was exhausted and the bright stars above her held a certain comfort. None of the shining celestial orbs, though, held the same comfort as the living and breathing one whom lay next to her then.

A familiar song filtered from the car radio and out the window, onto listening ears. Quinn began quietly humming the opening chords to herself, and joined in on the song when Edwin McCain began singing.

"_The strands in your eyes  
>That color them wonderful<br>Stop me  
>And steal my breath"<em>

"I love this song," Rachel expressed softly to no one in particular.

After a moment's hesitation, Quinn turned her head to look at her star and asked, "Do you want to dance?" As trepidation filled Rachel's eyes, the blonde hastened to add, "You don't have to… I mean, I realize why it would be… that wasn't meant to be so assuming, and-"

Rachel sat up but looked down into hazel eyes which flickered a liquid gold today. "No no, Quinn, it's not that," she explained. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears, unveiled because of her pulled up hair, turned a shocking shade of scarlet, and suddenly the brunette was bashful. "Um,"—she bit her lip hesitantly—"it's just… that it's a slow song and I, um, I don't really know… how."

Quinn sat up too and peered straight into brown orbs, trying to gauge the sincerity of Rachel's word, and seeing no deception or guilt in them. "You've… never slow danced with anyone?"

A tiny shrug and a small reply of, "No one's ever asked me," was all Quinn received.

The blonde leapt down from the hood of her vehicle and offered out her hand to the smaller girl. At Rachel's hesitance, Quinn told her, "C'mon, this is me asking you right now."

Just as the smoky baritone struck up the chorus, Quinn gently pulled Rachel down to stand in front of her. She placed one of the girl's hands at her waist and held the other between them, her own body mirroring the same stance. Immediately, Rachel held the stance with rigid form and Quinn had to laugh a little as Rachel pushed her into a box step.

"Rach," she chuckled lightly, "it's not a recital or a performance. There's no one checking posture or steps, okay?" Quinn brought one hand up and soothed the muscles of Rachel's neck. "It's okay to relax sometimes, so just… breathe, loosen, and sway, alright?"

Rachel blushed a little more and ducked her eyes. "Sorry."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Quinn said. With her hand at the back of Rachel's neck, she drew the star closer into her and whispered, "Just dance with me, Rach."

'_I'll be, your crying shoulder  
>I'll be, love's suicide<br>I'll be, better when I'm older  
>I'll be, the greatest fan of your life'<em>

_ 'I've dropped out  
>I've burned up<br>I fought my way back from the dead  
>Tuned in, turned on<br>"Remember the things that you said,"_ Quinn sang the last line of the bridge into Rachel's ear, and twirled her as the song resumed.

_'I'll be, your crying shoulder  
>I'll be, love's suicide<br>I'll be, better when I'm older  
>I'll be'<br>'I'll be, your crying shoulder  
>I'll be, love's suicide<br>I'll be, better when I'm older the greatest fan of your life…'_

The two lingered in their swaying embrace for a few seconds after the saxophones and the gentle chords from the guitars faded out and a different song came on, without either of them noticing. Until Quinn yawned and Rachel giggled and hugged Quinn a bit tighter before letting her go, except for one hand.

"We better get going, otherwise we won't make it to Nationals on time," Quinn mentioned reluctantly. She gazed at her car with a pout on her face and pulled her keys from her coat pocket, but let her hand hang at her side.

Rachel snatched the keys, and held them behind her as the blonde made a grab for them, already beginning to argue. "QUINN! Let me drive, okay? If you try to you'll get us both killed. You've been driving for nine hours and you haven't gotten any sleep before that; you're exhausted, you're falling asleep, you need to rest— I will be driving."

Grumpy at being challenged, Quinn raised one of her patented Fabray eyebrows, but the effect was slightly lessened by the dark circles under her eyes. "What? So you can turn the car around and head home now? Nuh-uh, not- happening."Quinn made for the drivers' side door but Rachel latched onto her arm, causing her to turn back.

"Quinn, if I _promise_ not to turn back, will you please get some rest while I drive? Please?" Rachel begged sweetly.

The diva's innocent little smile was, essentially, what won her the argument. Well, and the fact that Quinn was so tired that she could barely stand straight. She handed over the keys and allowed Rachel to help her into the passengers' seat. After that, she could really remember much.


	4. Part VII & VIII

_**Sorry for the delay in updating, guys. I got stuck on another Faberry fic that I'm writing which will hopefully be finished and put up soon. It's based off of 'On My Way', of course, but it's a multi-chapter fiction that I hope you'll really like. Anyway, one or two more chapters of BTTWC before it's complete. Sorry for how many lyrics are in here, but just really look at the words before you get peeved about it, everything holds significance I promise.**_

* * *

><p>Part VI— Every Second On The Clock That Is Ticking<p>

"Quinn?" The blonde felt herself being jostled awake, but it seemed only too soon. "Quinn, we're here." The shakiness in Rachel's voice suddenly brought Quinn out of her slumber . Sleep slowly ebbed away and she was left with the sight of emotional brown orbs and silky brown hair that caught the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the parked car.

The blonde sat up, ruffling her hair before trying to make it presentable and rubbing the final sleepiness from her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice thick and groggy.

"Seven am," Rachel replied softly. She looked past Quinn, to the looming hotel building outside. "Do you think the others are awake yet?"

Quinn cracked a smile. "I think Captain Corcoran and Drill Sergeant Santana have been up for hours already," she replied. "Trust me, we're going to be ready come one o'clock." She took Rachel's hand as she noticed that it was shaking slightly where it gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. "Hey, is everything alright?"

The smile that Rachel gave her was less than convincing; it was her fake, nothing-bothers-me smile instead of the one Quinn was so used to recently. But Quinn wouldn't push her, Rachel would tell her when she was ready, and Quinn wasn't likely to forget.

"Okay, let's go," the blonde said, giving her friend's hand a squeeze and a reassuring smile. Rachel hesitated for a beat as Quinn climbed out of the car, but she turned back immediately as she sensed it. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, I'll be right beside you the whole time, okay?"

Rachel nodded with a strained smile. "The whole time?" she asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"Every second."

* * *

><p>Quinn had left her keys with the valet and dropped their necessary bags off with the bellhop, before following the receptionists instructions to the New Directions' suites. Rachel walked half a step behind her the whole way, so Quinn had grabbed her hand to make sure she was still there.<p>

She could feel the diva's insecurity, fear, and stress as she gripped that small dainty hand in hers, and she wished she could go back to the night before when Rachel was peaceful and content and they had danced to the car stereo. There had to be some way to reassure the brunette, and Quinn was wracking her brain to find it.

Abruptly, Quinn stopped in the middle of the hotel hallway and spun on her heel, causing Rachel to crash into her chest and she wrapped one arm around the brunette's waist while the other cradled her soft, mousy head in her head. At first, Rachel was palpably shocked, but as Quinn remained there holding her, she relaxed and her arms wound her way around Quinn's sensitive waistline.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, you are _the most_ _**talented **_person that I have ever met, but you're a lot more than that," Quinn whispered vehemently. "You're fearless and you're driven; persistent, kind-hearted, resilient, you never back down or give up on your dreams, and you don't let other people get to you or tell you that something's a lost cause." She sighed and rested her chin against Rachel's shoulder. "I'm living proof of that. I was horrible to you for years, and you never gave up on me. Rachel, you saved me when I didn't know how to save myself."

Rachel wasn't really sure what to say about that. She had known that Quinn liked her now, enough to become a close friend to her, but she hadn't known that Quinn thought so highly of her. _She_ certainly didn't think that highly of herself.

"I hate to interrupt such an intimate moment," a familiar, somewhat obnoxious voice rang out. They both turned to see Santana, minus the Cheerios uniform, striding toward them with a barely contained smirk on her face, "But we gots a Nationals competition to win in less than six hours, and _somebody_ decided to show up last minute."

A brilliant rosy blush burned across Rachel's cheeks, but she put her hands on her hips sassily and bravely rolled her eyes at the other girl. "Well, we're here now," she snapped. "So we can either stand here throwing accusations and innuendos around, or we can get ready for competition."

Both of the other girls looked at her with surprised expressions before exchanging a look.

"_Chica loca,_" Santana muttered as they made their way to join the rest of their teammates.

* * *

><p>After locking the boys out of their bathroom while she showered, Quinn let the scalding water pound down on her. She had never felt more nervous than she did at that moment, knowing that in a little over an hour, they would either being the National Show Choir Champions or they would be going home the same way as they had last year. With one huge difference- they wouldn't have a 'next year' to console themselves with. This was their last chance, and it all came down to this.<p>

She turned off the water, stepped out, and toweled dry, thanking God that she had kept her hair short. Quinn slipped on her competition dress before wiping condensation from the mirror and staring at herself for a moment. One painful thought occurred to her.

If they lost, with their late set-list and minimal practice, it would be her fault.

"Okay, Fabray, calm yourself down," she told her reflection. "We are _not_ going to lose. We have Rachel, _you_ have Rachel, and Rachel is the key. She's our brightest star, and she's going to shine so bright that the judges will be blind to everything else."

"Q? Who're you talking to?"

Quinn jumped and turned her head to the doorway- the door which she had _**locked**_- to find both Brittany and Santana peering at her with looks of gleefulness and expectation respectively. "How did you…? I mean, I…? _What_?" she demanded somewhat lamely.

The other blonde stepped into the room first. "You look really pretty the way you already are, Q, but you need your hair and make-up done for the performance," Brittany spoke, walking forward and picking up the hair steam dryer-straightener that Quinn had brought in with her, plugging in the curling iron as an afterthought. Without another word or hesitation, she began fixing Quinn's hair. "At least you're not crying this time," Brittany added, more to herself than anyone else.

Quinn glanced briefly to Santana to find the Latina girl leaning against the doorway, looking at her with an innocently thoughtful expression. It was strange seeing Santana look pensive and non-threatening at the same time.

"B's right, you know," Santana carried on, "it is good that you aren't crying. 'Cause, this time, we _might_ have to result to… that other thing… since you're running a little short of hair to chop off."

She stepped forward and picked up Quinn's olive green eyeliner and began applying it to her friend, just as she'd done a million times before. Quinn wouldn't have trusted many other people to put make-up _that close_ to her eyeball, but Santana had never once even threatened her with mutilation via eyeliner.

"Well," Quinn laughed, "I don't think that's going to happen, San. Especially considering that you two are in a 'loving and committed monogamous relationship'." Quinn grinned at Santana. "Your words."

"Aww, San!" Brittany exclaimed, and Quinn had to dodge the hot iron that Brittany was holding at the two leaned toward each other.

"Okay, not that I'm not _really_ happy that you two are all out and in love and everything, but, Britts, you've got my hair in a burning metal trap, so…" Quinn reminded her. She didn't miss Santana's growl and glare aimed in her direction.

"So what exactly happened with you and the hobbit, Q?" Santana demanded, putting Quinn back in the hot seat.

The hazel-eyed girl sighed. "Nothing, I told you that." Santana leveled Quinn with an 'I know you're lying, tell me now' look. "We… I don't know. She freaked out and I backed her up and then we, like, danced in a parking lot to my car radio." The two looked at her with their mouths agape and their eyes wide, making Quinn feel exceedingly uncomfortable. She shrugged even as a beet red blush crept into her pale cheeks. "Like I said, nothing."

Brittany sat the curling iron down just as Santana finished painting Quinn's lips. The pair turned her to look at herself in the mirror and she grinned wickedly. "Damn, you guys are good," she acknowledged cheekily. Quinn smoothed out the skirt of her black and gold costume and breathed out, trying to steady herself. "Let's do this thing."

* * *

><p>They all gathered in a green room, waiting anxiously for their number to come. All of them, Quinn noticed, except for Rachel and Finn. It made her unsettled, like she wanted to burst into tears, but she remembered that she face stayed blotchy and red for awhile after she cried, and she couldn't go on stage looking like that.<p>

Quinn knew that they were probably mending their rocky relationship and getting back together, she hadn't been so deluded as to believe that their latest break up was permanent. If she was being honest with herself, Rachel's kind, forgiving, and optimistic heart had been given no better option than going back to 'golden boy', as she, Santana, and Puck had discreetly nicknamed him.

She felt a hand on her elbow and spun around, readying to go HBIC on whoever was blind enough to not see that she wasn't in the mood. "Look-" Quinn began, but the biting remark died in her mouth as she recognized the face staring up at her. "Rachel? Sweetie, what's wrong?" Her heart began hammering and she suddenly wanted to kill Finn Hudson all over again.

"Quinn, I can't do this," Rachel cried, barely holding back the tears in her eyes. "Please ask Santana or Mercedes to take my place. I just… I c-can't."

Grabbing the tiny girl's wrist and leading her over to an alcove of the room, Quinn held Rachel tightly while looking into her face. "What happened? What do you mean you can't, Rach?" she asked gently. "This is your moment to shine brighter than anyone else out there, Rachel."

"I can't sing with Finn," she breathed shakily. "Not now. It doesn't feel right, and-and… Quinn, I just can't-"

"Rachel Berry, we did not come all this way just to back out now," Quinn told her firmly. "We're at Show Choir Nationals. Come on, Rachel, I believe in you, you _can_ do this. Did Finn say something to you?"

"No, Quinn," Rachel told her hurriedly, gripping the blonde's wrists as she made to go after Finn on the other side of the room. A sob broke from Rachel's lips and Quinn turned back immediately. "It's not about Finn, _or_ winning."

Rachel pulled Quinn outside the room and they gripped each other's forearms as Rachel took a deep breath and began.

"Santana was so livid at me after we lost Nationals last year," Rachel heard herself say, feeling disembodied from her own voice. "After she stopped trying to 'go all Lima Heights' on me, she wouldn't speak to me for months, even when we were _all_ gathered together. And you know what the most idiotic part of it is?"—she looked at Quinn, who shrugged in turn—" I didn't even _want_ Finn to kiss me—_especially _in front of a full audience and panel of judges!

"And every time Santana said something to me about it, I wished that you were there to tell her to shut up like you did in the hotel room after we lost," Rachel continued, looking up into Quinn's expression of shock. "Because _you_ stopped her, Quinn. _You_ defended me when Finn didn't even try. And then you just disappeared and didn't want anything to do with any of us.

"You and I have become closer than we've ever been, Quinn. We're _friends_, and that's all I've ever wanted for as long as I've known you, because you can try to convince everyone else that you're a vindictive, self-serving, ice-hearted bitch but you've never fooled me!" Rachel's watery brown eyes bored angrily into Quinn's eyes, "My pride and my ego will be battered, bruised, and shattered if we lose Nationals. But my _heart_ will break if you leave us afterwards. And, after what transpired on Wednesday, I would rather keep the small part of my heart that is still intact, undamaged."

Rachel couldn't breathe when she finished, so Quinn rubbed her back supportively. Not quite sure what to say yet.

"Well then I guess it's a good thing that I'm not going anywhere then," Quinn finally said in a decisive tone. Rachel looked up to meet her gaze with a barely concealed wonder in her eyes, and Quinn grabbed her hand tightly. "And you _are_ going to sing, I'll convince Mr. Schue to take Finn off before I let you give it up because of him. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Rachel returned, only then realizing how close she was to Quinn. An idea was reflected by a spark in her eyes, "You sing with me."

If Quinn had taken a drink just then, she would have choked on it. "What?" she stammered.

Rachel's big, mega-watt smile brightened her face as she started to back away. "I'm going to notify Mr. Schue and Shelby of the change in plans," the brunette spoke excitedly. She ran back only long enough to pull Quinn into another tight hug and quickly peck her cheek. "Thank you."

Quinn stood there for a moment, too stunned to speak until Santana came out to find her. She waved a hand in her friend's face, making sure she wasn't broken.

"What's up, Q?" she asked curiously.

Eyes still wide and staring straight forward and unmoving, Quinn replied, "I think I just agreed to sing a song that I wrote in front of a National Show Choir panel and a few thousand people."

"Huh," Santana muttered. She patted Quinn's shoulder, "Good luck with that."

* * *

><p>Part VII— Somebody Remember to Bet On this Fighter<p>

Rachel could hear her heartbeat in her ears and being able to glance to her left and see Quinn looking back at her was the only thing keeping her reasonably calm at this moment.

Then Quinn was standing right next to her and taking her hand. "This was probably not the best idea for me," she said matter-of-factly.

"If you're afraid of the audience, just… look at me. Just me," Rachel told her comfortingly.

"I'm not worried about the crowd, Rachel," Quinn said, turning her eyes downcast.

The brunette reached out and touched her friend's arm. "Then what are you so scared of?" she asked.

Sighing, Quinn heard the announcement for New Directions to begin and she hugged Rachel hurriedly. "If we win, I'll tell you," Quinn whispered, "and if we don't win, you'll probably make me tell you anyway." She let go and pushed Rachel's hair off of her shoulder, "Shine to blind, Star. You've got this."

The blonde walked back to her place and smiled shyly, before pushing through the curtain when she heard her cue to begin and, for once, just sang like no one was listening.

Quinn:

"**Can you see me?  
>'Cause I'm right here<br>Can you listen?  
>'Cause I've been trying to make you notice<strong>"_  
><em>

Rachel followed almost immediately, beaming at the audience and then at Quinn as she put her everything into the song.

_"What it would mean to me  
>To feel like somebody<br>We've been on our way to nowhere  
>Tryin' so hard to get there<br>_They looked excitedly at each other as they began rushing forward, messing with each other as they would stop at one row before rushing forward again, like they were playing tag.

Both:_  
><em>_**"And I say  
>Oh!<br>We're gonna let it show!  
>We're gonna just let go of everything<br>Holding back our dreams  
>And try<br>To make it come alive  
>C'mon let it shine so they can see<br>We were meant to be"  
><strong>_**"Somebody"**_** "**__(Somebody)"  
>"Somebody, yeah" "(<em>**Somebody**_)"  
><em>_**"Somehow  
>Someday<br>Someway"  
><strong>__"Somebody"  
><em>

Rachel:_  
>"I'm so tired<br>Of being invisible  
>But I feel it, yeah<br>_

Quinn:

**Like a fire below the surface  
>Trying to set me free<br>Burnin' inside of me**_  
><em>

"_**'Cause were standing on the edge now"**_ On separate sides of the auditorium, the two began climbing the steps that brought them up onto the stage._  
><em>"_**It's a long way down**__"_

Both:_  
><em>_**But I say  
>Oh!<br>We're gonna let it show!  
>We're gonna just let go of everything<br>Holding back our dreams  
>And try<br>To make it come alive  
>C'mon let it shine so they can see<br>We were meant to be  
><strong>_ The curtain behind them rose and the rest of New Directions were revealed on the tiers and began singing with the girls.

**All:** Somebody (Somebody)  
>Somebody, yeah (Somebody)<br>Somehow  
>Someday<br>Someway  
>Somebody<br>As the rest of the choir bowed their heads, Rachel sang the last verse on her own. The lights shone down on her, making a halo around her head and making her shine like a beacon in the night. Quinn felt breathless, like the air in the room had suddenly become a million degrees warmer than before and her stomach fluttered while her eyes watered.

Rachel:_  
>We will walk out of this darkness<br>Feel the spotlight glowing like a yellow sun  
>Ohohohohoh (<em>Choir: Ohohohohoh_)  
>And when we fall we fall together<br>'Til we get back up and we will rise as one  
>Ohohohohoh<br>_Everyone burst into harmony to finish the song, repeating the chorus once more, and then they reached the finale of it and the lights dimmed on the rest of the choir as Rachel and Quinn finished it out, this time singing directly to each other.

Rachel walked toward Quinn, a hand already stretched out to her. _"Somehow…"_

Quinn began walking in the same direction, only vaguely aware of everything else around her. "**Someday…**"_  
><em> Finally their hands, as well as their gazes locked on one another, and they finished the song together in an impromptu change in the song. "_**Someway… Somebody... **_"_  
><em> In the next second, they were having to separate to opposite sides of the stage from each other once more, while Santana, Brittany, Mercedes, and Sugar took to the stage. All former-Trouble Tones swayed their hips to the beat and raised and lowered their arms above their heads in unison as they all sang soft.

_ "Remember… Remember… Remember (Uh-huh)… Remember… Remember… Remember… Remember (Uh-huh)… Remember… Remember… Remember (Uh-huh)… Remember… Remember… Remember… Remember.."  
><em> Everything stopped for a mere beat before a crescendo pierced through the auditorium and faded and into silence. The Santana turned around, while the other girls remained still until the beat picked up once more._  
><em>Santana: _"Baby look at me, And tell me what you see"_

The crescendo built and dropped again and Santana faced back just as Mercedes spun around to face front._  
><em>Mercedes: "_You ain't seen the best of me yet; Give me time, I'll make you forget the rest."_

Another build and drop and Brittany had spun forward to take the spotlight._  
><em>Brittany: "_I got more of me, And you can set it free; I can catch the moon in my hand."_

For the first time that Rachel had ever heard, Sugar Motta go her solo. And, as the other girls all had their backs to the audience, leaving no doubt who was singing, Sugar didn't disappoint._  
><em>Sugar: _Don't you know who I am?_

Backs all turned, the four girls sang the last line of the intro in harmony._  
>"Remember my name!"<br>_ All of the girls pivoted to face the audience and the hands went directly out in front of them with grasping fingers as they belted out the chorus like they had been practicing for that one moment their entire lives. The other members grinned amongst each other as they watched their female counterparts sing with such passion that those in the cheap seats still must have felt it._  
>"FAME!<br>I'm gonna live forever,  
>I'm gonna learn how to fly<br>HIGH!  
>I feel it comin' together,<br>People will see me and cry  
>FAME!<br>I'm gonna make it to heaven,  
>Light up the sky like a flame.<br>FAME!  
>I'm gonna live forever,<br>Baby remember my name."  
><em>

Again the girls repeated their _Remember_s, before strutting downstage and working choreography that left no doubt in anyone's mind that Santana and Brittany had, in fact, planned out. Provocative, eye-catching, and yet still appropriate for the song._  
><em>

Santana: "_Baby hold me tight; 'Cause you can make it right"  
><em>

Mercedes: "_You can shoot me straight to the top"  
><em>

Brittany: "_Give me love and take all I've got to give"  
><em>

Sugar: "_Baby I'll return"  
><em>

_Mercedes: "Too much is not enough"  
><em>

_Brittany: "I can ride your heart 'til it breaks," _Brittany added an powerfully impressive foot stomp at the last word._  
><em>

Santana: "_Ooh, I've got what it takes."  
><em>

Rachel looked over her shoulder to a beaming Shelby Corcoran, who tried to hide her smile behind her folded hands. The brunette caught the older woman's eye and nodded to her with a smile on her own face. Coach Corcoran came forward and pulled her estranged daughter into a one-armed hug, which Rachel welcomed as they watched the girls own both the crowd and the stage.

_"Remember my name.  
>FAME!<br>I'm gonna live forever,  
>I'm gonna learn how to fly<br>HIGH!  
>I feel it comin' together,<br>People will see me and cry  
>FAME!<br>I'm gonna make it to heaven,  
>Light up the sky like a flame.<br>FAME!  
>I'm gonna live forever,<br>Baby remember my name."  
><em>

Across the stage, Quinn met Rachel's eyes mouthed, "Fame," to her with a meaningful look.

_"FAME!  
>I'm gonna live forever<br>I'm gonna learn how to fly.  
>HIGH!<br>I feel it comin' together,  
>People will see me and cry.<br>FAME!  
>I'm gonna make it to heaven,<br>Light up the sky like a flame.  
>FAME!<br>I'm gonna live forever,  
>Baby remember my name.<br>_Mercedes: _Remember my name…  
><em>Brittany: _Remember my name...  
><em>Santana: _Remember my name..._

The entire stage went dark and Rachel felt Shelby give her shoulders a squeeze of encouragement as she took to the stage. She walked over to the piano and leaned against it in a nonchalant manner, looking at her nails as the lights came back up, the piano began to play, and she began to speak.

She chuckled and shot a look to stage left where Quinn was still hidden, then back to the audience.

"_After all that you put me through… You think I'd despise you… But in the end, I wanna thank you… 'Cause you've made me that much stronger." _ As the heavy drum and guitar began, Rachel jumped to position and sauntered across the stage brazenly. She sang with her club members backing her up from the wings._  
>"Well I thought I knew you, thinkin' that you were true<br>Guess I, I couldn't trust called your bluff time is up  
>'Cause I've had enough<br>You were there by my side, always down for the ride  
>But your joy ride just came down in flames 'cause your greed sold me out in shame"<br>_

Rachel spun around as the other members all filed in behind her upstage and took their positions as she finished the verse._  
><em>

_"After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that I hold resentment for you  
><em>_**But uh uh, oh no, you're wrong**__  
>'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know<br>Just how capable I am to pull through  
>So I wanna say thank you<br>'Cause it"  
><em>

All of the New Directions joined her for the chorus, led by some choreography that Santana and Mike, aided by Brittany, had had to throw together quickly. It was a bit choppy, but they were all performing at the top of their game on their toes.

New Directions and Rachel: _"__**Makes me that much stronger  
>Makes me work a little bit harder<br>It makes me that much wiser  
>So thanks for making me a fighter<br>Made me learn a little bit faster  
>Made my skin a little bit thicker<br>Makes me that much smarter  
>So thanks for making me a<strong>__"_

Rachel: "_fighter"_

As they progressed into the song, Rachel lost herself in the music and suddenly they weren't at a Nationals competition, but in their own auditorium singing for fun as a group. The fear, the expectations, the tension were all dissipating into the pure joy and rush that singing brought to all of them, especially Rachel Barbra Berry._  
><em>

Rachel: _Never __**saw it coming,**__ all of your backstabbing  
>Just so you could cash in on a good thing before I'd <em>_**realize your game**__  
>I heard <em>_**you're going round**__ playing the victim now  
>But don't <em>_**even begin**__ feeling I'm the one to blame  
>'Cause you dug your own grave<br>After all of the fights and the lies 'cause you're wanting to haunt me  
>But that won't work anymore<em>_**, no more,**__  
>It's <em>_**over  
><strong>__'Cause if it wasn't for all of your torture  
>I wouldn't know how to be this way now and never back down<br>So I wanna say thank you  
>'Cause it<br>_

The choir launched into the chorus again and then the whole thing slowed down so that Rachel could slowly build it back up again._  
><em>

Rachel: "_How could this man I thought I knew  
>Turn out to be unjust so cruel<br>Could only see the good in you  
>Pretend not to see the truth<br>You tried to hide your lies, disguise yourself  
>Through living in denial<br>But in the end you'll see  
>YOU-WON'T-STOP-ME"<em>

I am a fighter(_**I'm a fighter)**__ and I_

_I ain't gonna stop (__**I ain't gon stop)**__  
><em>

_There is no turning back  
><em>

_I've had enough_

_**You thought I would forget  
>But I remembered<br>'Cause I remembered  
>I remembered<br>You thought I would forget  
>I remembered<br>'Cause I remembered  
>I remembered…<br>Makes me that much stronger  
>Makes me work a little bit harder<br>It makes me that much wiser  
>So thanks for making me a fighter<br>Made me learn a little bit faster  
>Made my skin a little bit thicker<br>Makes me that much smarter  
>So thanks for making me a FIGHTER<strong>__"_

The whole club ended with their fists in the air, and Quinn chanced a look at Rachel, who was looking back at her with the biggest smile on her face. The nodded at each other and Quinn stepped forward to begin the second song she'd written for competition.

Quinn: **Everybody's always talkin' at me,  
>Everybody's tryin' to get in my head.<br>I wanna listen to my own heart talkin'  
>I need to count on myself instead.<strong>

Quinn stepped back to sing the sub-line while the guys stepped forward to sing.

Girls: **(Did you ever?)**

Guys:_ Lose yourself to get what you want?_

Girls: **(Did you ever?)**

Guys: _Get on a ride and wanna get off?  
><em>

Girls: **(Did you ever?)**

Guys: _Push away the ones you should have held close?  
><em>

As the everyone joined in Quinn felt a rare surge of genuine pride and happiness. The were competing at Nationals with _her_ song, and when she looked to Rachel, she knew the girl felt pride in her as well.

Everyone: _**Did you ever let go, did you ever not know?  
>I'm not gonna stop, that's who I am.<br>I'll give it all I got that is my plan.  
>Will I find what I lost?<br>You know you can!  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on ME!**__  
><em>**I wanna make it right**_, that is the way.  
>To turn my life around <em>**today is the day!**_  
><em>_**Am I the type of heart who means what I say?**__  
><em>_**Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it  
>Bet on it<strong>__  
><em>

_How will I know if there's a path worth takin'?  
>Should I question every move I make?<br>With all I've lost my heart is breakin'  
>I don't wanna make the same mistake.<br>_

Guys: _(Did you ever?)_

Girls:**Doubt your dream will ever come true?**_  
><em>

Guys: _(Did you ever?)_

Girls**: Blame the one that never blamed you?**_  
><em>

Guys: _(Did you ever?) _

Girls: **Try to live a lie again.  
><strong>_**I don't wanna win this game if I can play it my way!  
>I'm not gonna stop, that's who I am.<br>I'll give it all I got that is my plan.  
>Will I find what I lost?<br>You know you can.  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on me  
><strong>_

Girls: "**I wanna make it right, that is the way.  
>To turn my life around today is the day!"<br>**

Am_ I the type of guy who means what I say?  
><em>__

_**Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it  
>Bet on it<strong>__  
><em>**You can Bet on me**_  
><em>_**Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it**__  
><em>_**I wanna make it right that is the way.  
>To turn my life around today is the day.<br>Am I the type of heart that means what I say?  
>Bet on it<br>Bet on it  
>Bet on it<br>BET ON ME!**_"

It wasn't until she felt arms wrap around her that Quinn realize her eyes were shut and that their performance was over and the roaring in her ears was actually the applause of the crowd.

* * *

><p><em><strong> Sorry for the TWELVE PAGES of Nationals performance guys, I know that some people hate it when writers put full songs into fanfics, but I couldn't resist. All the lyrics are so applicable and important to the plot. And remember that it was Quinn who wrote 'Somebody' and 'Bet On Me' and chose 'Fame' and 'Fighter' so all the songs are meant to give Rachel a message. <strong>_

_** Anyway, I decided that Quinn went all Teen Disney on us, so the songs she wrote are actually from Lemonade Mouth and HSM2 respectively. **_


	5. Part IX & X

Part IX— Whenever You Remember Times Gone By

Rachel was both physically and emotionally exhausted from their performance, but they were luckily one of the last groups to perform and so they took their seats once more. Quinn sat down and Rachel sat down beside her, subconsciously leaning into her and Quinn positioned herself to make Rachel more comfortable, running long fingers through dark hair.

"That was incredible," Rachel yawned. "I'd say our chances are pretty good, I feel like we definitely placed."

"Thanks to you," Quinn replied warmly. "I think the judges actually had to pull out their sunglasses at one point."

* * *

><p><strong>Five Hours Later<strong>

Quinn looked around at her friends and even complete strangers crowded round together, all dressed to the nines and singing several different songs at once with such amazing volume. Rachel was among them, her hair pulled back with curled locks tumbling down the back of her head and wearing quite possibly the most brightly colored and form-fitting fuchsia dress Quinn had ever seen.

She took a moment to revel in the sights and sounds surrounding her, thinking back to the moment four hours ago when the whole world suddenly felt like a dream.

…..

The New Directions were standing in the lobby with Mr. Schuester, awaiting the results of the competition. Everyone was nervous, knowing that they could be in the same, if not worse, position as they were the prior. Rachel had kept reminding herself that they had definitely been better this years, they had shone brighter, and there had been no compromising public kiss to weigh them down. They had to have placed.

Shelby came back with an envelop in her hand and an unreadable expression. Quinn could tell just from that face that Coach Corcoran had already looked, even if the results weren't clear in her features. She took a spot next to Schue, facing the group with dignity and a sort of second-hand pride.

"No matter what this piece of paper says," Shelby began, holding up the envelop, "I want every single one of you to know how grateful I am that you've allowed me to co-coach with Mr. Schuester. For all the years and all the National Championships I shared with Vocal Adrenaline, I was never more honored to consider myself a part of them than I am for all of you." She looked to Mr. Schuester and he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"For a lot of you, this is your last year and your last competition as a part of New Directions," Mr. Schue spoke, getting choked up but smiling through it. "But this is _not_ your last chance. Some day, maybe weeks, maybe months, maybe even years from now, I'm going to be looking at an entirely different generation of McKinley High glee clubbers, and I'm going to be able to tell them that…"- Will beamed at Rachel and Kurt- "... The Barbra Streisand and Joel Grey of their generation…"- he looked at Quinn and to Artie- "…the writers and director of the newest Broadway show-stopper…" – to Mercedes, Santana, Brittany and Mike- "…the people who produced and choreographed so-and-so's latest music video?..."—Puck and Sam and Blaine and Tina and Rory—"…those rock stars and successful performers…"—his gaze finally landed on Sugar in amusement—"…the multi-millionaire woman who owns the whole show, I had the honor and the pride of building this glee choir with all of them, because they were my kids once upon a time," Mr. Schue stated firmly, "and everybody who told us we couldn't do it? Well, look at us now."

The gleeks exchanged happy and familial looks between themselves, pulling each other in so that no member was left out of the mesh of embracing divas and drama queens and dancers and rock stars.

Shelby looked at the kids. "Drum roll, please," she prompted them, and all the kids started patting their knees in rapid frequency as the older brunette pulled the list from the envelop. When the paper was free, everyone stopped and still with baited breath. Finally, Shelby's face showed emotion. "I guess we can't all be champions," she said evenly. Shoulders sagged and tears formed in eyes and lumps formed in throats, until Shelby continued, "… but we most certainly are!"

"**WHAT?**" The entire choir erupted in her direction, some shocked and other outraged that they'd been played so easily. Then again, Shelby Corcoran was a professional.

A smile that was very much identical to Rachel's mega-watt grin took to Shelby's older face. "You guys placed," she explained.

"What position?" Rachel asked with some hesitation. "Please tell me it wasn't 3rd…"

…..

An arm around Quinn's shoulders brought her from the memory and she looked beside her to see Santana leaning against her, a glass of what Quinn hoped wasn't alcohol in the hand wrapped around her, and Brittany's hand in the other. She was dressed in sinfully short red dress with knee-high leather heeled-boots with her hair straightened and left down, beside her was Brittany in a chartreuse halter dress and matching peep-toes.

"Feels kinda surreal, huh Q?" Santana asked in a low voice.

"Which part? Being in New York, having the 'Unholy Trinity' back together for good, or knowing that when we get back to Lima we have a shiny new trophy to shove in people's faces?" Quinn asked, smirking her signature smile. "Because it's all kinda feeling pretty surreal to me right now."

Santana put her drink down and dropped Brittany's hand momentarily to grab two more drinks from a passing caterer's tray, handing one to each of the blondes in front of her and retrieving her own. He held her glass aloft. "To…" a thoughtful face gave in to a wayward smile, "to how incredibly badass our lives are and will always be," Santana toasted, the other two putting their glasses to hers. There was a building paused before the Latina continued, "So, Q? Seeing as how the hobbit- and I use that name with some remote level of tolerance- isn't hanging off of you tonight, I'm assuming you haven't told her?"

Quinn shrugged as she took another sip of whatever was in her glass. "She didn't ask me," was her simple reply.

"But you're still going to, right?" Brittany pressed insistently. If the look on Brittany's face wasn't enough to convince a wall to talk back, Quinn didn't know what was what.

The blonde nodded, evading her friends' gazes. "Eventually…" she murmured in a noncommittal tone. Santana stared at her incredulously. "What?" she demanded in turn.

The Latina shook her head reproachfully. "I just can_not_ believe that Quinn Fabray dragged the girl, who she's been pining after for _three years_, six hundred miles across the Mid-Atlantic to make her dreams come true, only to punk out on telling the girl how she really feels about her," Santana ranted with barely controlled outrage. Her dark, fiery eyes bore into the hazel of Quinn's. "Woman-up, Fabray, or I _will_ break out into 'Kiss The Girl' in the middle of this damn party."

"Why the hell do you even care?" Quinn snapped, not intending the amount of venom that overtook her voice.

Santana took an actual step back, like Quinn had physically slapped her across the face or something. Her eyes narrowed, as did the blonde's, and Brittany stepped in between them, acting as mediator like usual. At Brittany's motion, both girl's relaxed with sudden twin pangs of guilt upon realizing that they had been just about to rip one another limb from limb, at a celebratory party, after having commented only a few minutes ago on how good it felt to have repaired their friendship.

"Honest to God, Q, the longer you hold this in and keep it a secret, the harder you have to fight to not be a complete and total _puta psicótico_! It's been three damn years, just tell Rachel already!" Santana yelled.

"Tell me what?" Rachel asked, appearing at Brittany's elbow. She looked between the three riled up women and ducked her head a bit in fear. "Or, you know, … never mind…."

Quinn and Santana glared at each other, having an argument that required no words.

_Tell her, Q. I wasn't kidding about getting up and singing!_

_ I'll tell her when I'm ready, dammit! And don't you dare start singing that stupid song. God! Why can't you mind your own business for once?_

_ You're my friend, I have to put up with you on a daily basis- it __**is**__ my business, bitch!_

_ Back-off or I will tell Brittany about that time in the choir room when you thought I was her, S._

_ You wouldn't dare!_

_ Try me._

"Uh, what are they doing?" Rachel asked Brittany nervously. " 'Cause it kind of looks like they're about to have a knock down drag out and this so isn't the time or company!"

Brittany shrugged, as if the murderous glares that her best friend and girlfriend were exchanging were nothing surprising really. "They do this sometimes," she offered nonchalantly. "And then they get over it. Like sisters." She paused and looked around, before gesturing to a sophisticated man in the midst of things. "That guy is checking you out, Rach."

A look of pure distaste fell on Rachel's features before she looked over her shoulder in the direction Brittany had indicated before turning back around with a light smile. "As dishy as he is, Britt, that guy is Calvin Danby. He's an official from NYADA. He was just here to speak with all the competing finalists."

"Like you and Kurt?" Brittany asked.

"And others from other school, many of the competitors here have applied to NYADA as well," Rachel answered her. "He said that he enjoyed my performance… and that he looks forward to seeing me back in New York City when the semester starts."

Brittany's blue eyes widened to the size of saucers a few moments later as the implication of Rachel's words sank in (she really _was_ smarter than people gave her credit for, just a tad slower). "Does that mean…?" she asked, not voicing it out loud for the others to hear just yet.

"Officially, no," Rachel stated clearly, "but unofficially, it does mean that my prospects as a future student of NYADA are incredibly good." The brunette looked at Brittany pensively, and when her friend looked up, she asked, "Brittany? Could you possibly not tell Quinn about this? I feel as if I should at the proper moment."

"Yeah, totally," Brittany returned cheerfully. "She, um, she has something to tell you too. But she's just waiting for the right time or something. San thinks she should tell you now though. That what they were arguing about. S threatened to stand up in front of everyone and sing a song from The Little Mermaid if Q didn't spill."

Wracking her brain about exactly which song Santana would began singing, all she got was an image of Santana as a rather more attractive Ursula singing 'Poor Unfortunate Souls'. She had to laugh, not only at the pictures playing in her mind, but also at the situation in general. "What were you going to do?" Rachel laughed freely.

"Nothing," Brittany returned without much ado. "Normally I just try to keep them from killing each other." She smiled coquettishly at Rachel and blushed. "They're both so stubborn. And they each always think they're right. But they really do love each other; if they started being nice to each other all the time, I would know something was wrong."

"They definitely have their own interesting dynamic," Rachel said, resting her chin upon her hand as she turned her head to look at the two HBICs, who were now arguing verbally rather than telepathically.

Santana had thrown her hands up in the air, and apparently tried to climb onto a chair several times but Quinn kept pulling her down. Each were yelling what were sure to be threats and arguments at one another, and their two observing friends wondered if either even knew what the other was saying.

"Should we intervene?" Rachel asked reluctantly, noticing that Quinn somehow looked even more attractive when she was irate than she did usually.

"I usually wait until they _don't_ look like they're thinking about going all Lima Heights Adjacent on each other before I try again," Brittany explained matter-of-factly, as if they were commenting on a television show rather than a heated argument between the current and former head cheerleaders.

"What if they actually _do_ go 'all Lima Heights Adjacent'?" Rachel asked with trepidation, looking around to see just how much of a spectacle the girls were making of themselves. Luckily, everyone in the place was either too tipsy (curse Noah! How did he even get his hands on that flask to begin with) or too wrapped up in recounting the competition with the friends to pay attention to the borderline cat fight.

"Then my money is on Quinn," Brittany announced offhandedly. Seeing Rachel eyeing her with bemusement, she explained, "You probably think it's bad that I'm betting against Tana when she's my girlfriend. But Q's a lot more dangerous than she looks. What Quinn lacks against Santana's experience and cunningness, she makes up for in strength and rage. If Quinn picks a fight, it's always about something she feels strongly about. San's got a short temper, and so does Q, but Quinn is better at keeping her head and plotting out revenge."

Rachel turned her eyes back to the girls, only to find that they were gone. She jumped out of her seat and did a three-sixty on impulse, looking everywhere for the wrathful women. When she didn't find them, she regained Brittany's gaze. "Where'd they go?" she nearly screamed in panic.

The blonde girl shrugged again. "Relax, Rach," told her comfortingly. "They probably just took it outside to talk it out or settle it some other way."

For a moment, Rachel was speechless in her panic. "Santana wouldn't _actually_ hurt Quinn, would she?" the drama queen demanded finally.

Brittany took a sip of her drink and looked at Rachel like she thought she was the eccentric one. "I told you, they do this a lot," the blonde reminded her. "Quinn's more likely to hurt Santana than Santana is to hurt Quinn."

"And you're not worried for Santana?" Rachel asked curiously. _What_ did these girls get up to? And what had she gotten herself into?

"Sure I am," Brittany answered, as if this should have been obvious. "But Santana is my Yang…, or is it Yin?... I don't know," the blonde threw in. "Santana is the aggressive, where I'm the passive. I can't pick and choose or fight her battles for her, that's not my job. I don't need to anyway, because she can hold her own, even if she isn't even really fighting back.  
>"Santana… well, don't tell her I told you this… but you know that whole lover or fighter thing?" Rachel nodded and Brittany continued, "Well, San's both. And there's really not a lot of in-between with her. She can be your best friend or your worst enemy, but she doesn't do 'frenemies', like some people think she does. The thing is, is that she doesn't like people to know the 'love' side of her so people get confused. She acts tough and mean to everyone in glee, but they're really her best friends. She acts like she's nice and respectful to other people, but she actually really doesn't like them at all. In Santana's mind, you can't protect the people who you love if the people you hate know about it, because then they can use it against you."<p>

Rachel thought about it. She thought about the way that everyone knew that the easiest way to get to Santana was through Brittany, because it was no secret that Santana loved the blonde more than anyone. It was the same as how people had torn her down for years, using her dreams because they knew that it was what hit her the hardest, even if she didn't always show it. Santana Lopez thought of life as a sort of twisted war, and so her reasoning did actually make some illogical sense really.

Maybe that was why Brittany acted so ditzy all the time, Rachel thought. As it were, people were generally kind to Brittany, unless they had a score to settle with Santana, because they believed she was innocent and defenseless. Brittany S. Pierce was actually one of the wisest people Rachel knew and so it bothered her that Brittany acted as if she were clueless, but now she sort of understood why. If Brittany had let people know that she was smart and insightful, they might have treated her with as much venom as they did everyone else.

"When Quinn was mean to you, she did it for similar reasons," Brittany said, as if reading Rachel's train of thought (which honestly wouldn't have surprised her one bit). "She thought that if she made you her personal target, with the slushies and the names, that other people would know that you were hers and leave you alone. Nobody wants to cross the head bitch in charge, or her favorite person to bully. It wasn't right, but that was Quinn."

* * *

><p>Part X— How Can I Love When I'm Afraid To Fall?<p>

Rachel looked up just in time to see Quinn and Santana striding toward them, looking considerably less livid than before. They were laughing about something together as they sat down with Brittany and Rachel. Brittany shot Rachel a 'see, everything's okay' look and smiled brightly at her."

"Hi," Quinn greeted Rachel brightly. "Sorry about that, Santana and I just had to finish a discussion." She took the seat next to Rachel, who immediately made a grab for the blonde's hand just a second to late and Quinn brought it up to touch her hair and then left it on the table.

Rachel sighed in disappointment, but she didn't miss the strange look that Santana shot Quinn either.

"Hey, Q?"

Quinn turned her head to regard a patiently waiting Brittany. "Yeah, Britts, what's up?"

"What did San do to you in the choir when she thought you were me?" Brittany asked evenly.

Santana choked on her water and Quinn's eyes bulged out of her head. "Britt? How do you know anything about that?" Quinn asked incredulously. "Because I am fairly certain that neither of us said anything about San, you, me, or the choir room."

Brittany's forehead crinkled in confusion. "But you were arguing about it earlier," she pointed out.

"Yeah, baby, _in our heads_," Santana retorted, looking at Brittany as if she were some sort of impressive yet terrifying eighth world wonder.

Like it was completely ordinary for people to pick up what others were discussing in their minds, Brittany nodded confidently. She turned her head back to Quinn, "So… what happened?"

The other two seemed to be having another telepathic conversation, and then Santana suddenly burst, "Oh, just tell her! She'll probably know what happened the next time either of us thinks in great detail anyway." Santana leaned into Brittany and kissed her. "She's too clever for our own good."

Quinn enjoyed the cherry redness of Santana's face as grinned and began to relayed the story. "_I_ was in the choir room, minding my own business, organizing my folder one day. In Santana's defense, she _was_ getting over that really awful head cold, so her mind wasn't really all there. So she walks in, somehow completely convinced that I was you"- Quinn glanced at Brittany- "even though my hair is seven inches shorter and we're two completely different shades of blonde, and she grabs my ass." Quinn glared at a rather contrite -looking Santana. "Needless to say, we were both slightly mortified and agreed not to mention it again… which, clearly, isn't the case now. "

Santana decided to play it off. "Oh come off it, Q," she teased smugly, "you know you liked it. Better than some others squeezing your skinny butt cheeks"- Santana shot an inconspicuous look at Rachel, which only Quinn caught- "although clearly not as much as certain ones."

Rachel felt a burning toil in her stomach as Santana's mention of 'certain ones'. Which certain ones was the head Cheerio referring to? Why hadn't Quinn told _her_ that there was someone she was interested in? Would she have even wanted to know anyway? Rachel felt suddenly felt significantly down-trodden.

She rose from her seat and successfully faked a yawn. "Well, I think I'm going to upstairs to bed," Rachel announced. "It's been a rather long day, and winning 1st at Nationals has taken a lot out of me." She hugged Brittany tightly and touched Quinn's shoulder briefly as she muttered, "Good night, everyone."

Rachel turned just in time to see the venomous glare that Quinn gave Santana before grabbing her jacket and stalking out of the building into the cool New York night air.

* * *

><p>Quinn barely made it outside before her tears broke free and she dropped onto a bench dramatically.<p>

"You do understand that wandering outside, alone, on a Saturday night in New York City is probably not a well-thought out plan." Quinn looked up to see Shelby standing there, cell-phone in hand. For a moment, the older woman smiled, until she saw the tears in Quinn's eyes and the smile faded into a frown. "Quinn?"

The blonde knew what was happening almost before it came on. That feeling of being boxed in with no escape, your mind clawing for some way to get out, invisible forces pressing all the air out of your lungs, gasping as you tried to breathe in, the shaking, the heart hammering, the dizziness, the cold feeling. Full-blown panic.

…

It took Shelby a little over half an hour to get Quinn calmed down to the point where she wasn't hyperventilating. During that time, Santana and Brittany had come out to try and find her and Quinn had gaspingly screamed some things at Santana that, even if Shelby had understood, she would probably never repeat to Beth when she later told the story of how her moms had won Nationals with New Directions in 2012.

The blonde had finally worked herself up so much by Santana's presence that Shelby ordered her to go back inside (And God hadn't Santana hated that!). From the little that Shelby understood of Quinn's angry, scornful hyper-ventilating, Santana wasn't undeserving of that fury.

"How's… Beth?" Quinn asked, needing to take a breath in the middle of her two-word question.

Sitting beside Quinn in the sidewalk bench and running her fingers through Quinn's blonde hair, she replied softly, "Your mom and Hiram Berry got called into work, there was a big accident off the highway and the ER was reception was a disaster, so she called me to check that it was okay that she leave Beth with Leroy."

"Leroy will take good care of her," Quinn vouched, "he is… one of the… sweetest and most… kind-hearted men… I've ever met. Rachel's a living testament of that." She looked over to Shelby and laughed. "Beth will grow up so loved, but she's gonna be so confused."

Shelby smirked. "How do you figure?" the older brunette asked.

Quinn laughed, sucking in some air. "Her birth-parents are Puck and myself, some my mom and Puck's mother are her grandmothers; but you adopted her and you're her mom. Rachel is you're biological daughter and _she_ was adopted by a lovely gay couple, who are my father-figures _and_ were like dads to Puck when he was younger and Puck and Rachel are 'jewbros'. And then Rachel and I…" Quinn trailed off, unsure of how to tell Shelby Corcoran that the biological mother of her adopted child was in love with her biological daughter.

"I know," Shelby murmured in understand. Quinn looked at her questioningly. "I've known for awhile, since you listened to Rachel when she told you not to tell Principal Figgins about…." Shelby didn't want to get into that again. "No one else could help you, Quinn. No one but Rachel could get close enough. Because you let her."  
>They were quiet for awhile and then Shelby continued, "And so Beth will have three parents and she'll have grandmothers. She'll have Leroy and Hiram for some sort of paternal figures, besides Noah. And, she'll have Rachel. The important thing is that she's loved and she's supported. Even if she does have kind of a messed up family system. What kid doesn't?"<p>

"I think hers might go in the 'above average' category," Quinn chuckled. She leaned forward, bringing her folded fingers up to her lips and nodding, "But you're right. At least she'll be loved. And I'm sure Rachel can help her out with explaining her weird family situation to her peers. Maybe she'll grow up to write a soap opera."

Shelby paused, thinking deeply. "Were you worried that I would be mad that you're in love with Rachel?" she asked stoically.

Quinn looked at her with more tears in her eyes. "I've _just_ gotten back to the point where you trust me enough to start seeing Beth again. I didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize my relationship with her… or with you. Rachel _is_ your daughter, Shelby. She means something to you too."

"At first, especially earlier this year when you were trying to take Beth away from me, I admit that I doubted you, Quinn," the older woman admitted. "But seeing you now, how far you've come and the progress you've made… _this_ Quinn, I wouldn't even think of denying Beth. And you truly love Beth, protecting her by allowing me to keep her proved that. I couldn't take her away from you again.  
>"Rachel is always a part of me, no matter where she goes or how she lives her life. I love both of my daughters, Quinn. But Rachel is grown up, and she doesn't need as much protecting as Beth. Rachel is smart and I trust her to make good decisions. It just so happens that if she makes you her decision… that I approve."<p>

Quinn looked at Shelby in awe. "Do you mean that?"

Shelby shrugged. "She's good for you, keeps you grounded and level-minded, and you're good for her. You push her- or drag her- toward her dreams, you encourage her and you believe in her. Rachel needs that in her life. She needs you." Quinn looked doubtful. "Even if she doesn't realize it yet, she will," Shelby added supportively. "A part of her is, after all, Corcoran. It takes us a little longer to see what's right in front of us, we tend to tunnel-vision."

In a strange way, even though she was sure that Rachel was upset with her and that Santana was probably unwilling to admit she was hurt, Quinn felt at peace with herself because in that strange way, she had gotten everything she wanted like the spoiled Fabray she was. She had had a daughter with her best friend, Puck, and realized that Beth was a blessing in disguise- a way to repair not only herself but Rachel and Shelby as well. She had the unconditional love and support of her mother, Noah Puckerman, and Shelby Corcoran, as well as Leroy and Hiram Berry. And she _would_ get the girl, she was sure of it. Maybe not that night or that month or even before she left for Yale in the fall, but she would make Rachel Berry fall in love with her.

Last year, when she had tearfully told Brittany and Santana that she wanted 'somebody' to love her, she'd been right. And 'somebody' would love her; somehow, someway, someday… somebody.


	6. XI

_**So guess what, guys? APPARENTLY, I wasn't observant enough to notice and NONE OF YOU DECIDED TO TELL ME, that the numbers on my chapter were all messed up! So no Faberry goodness for you! Lol, jk… or am I? =:)**_

* * *

><p>Part XI- And I Have Loved You All Along<p>

Rachel had cried herself to sleep that night, so she didn't hear when Brittany and an upset Santana came into the room and fell into one of the beds near hers; she didn't hear Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina stumble into the room, or when Sugar crept in and went straight to bed with no intentions of waking up before noon. Quinn was the last one in, and she padded into the room and came to sit on the side of the bed that Rachel was not occupying, and watched the moonlight cast a hue over the brunette's face.

She smoothed her fingers over Rachel's cheeks, tracing the tear tracks that had been left behind, and swiping her thumb gently across the swollen, red puff under each of Rachel's eyes. Quinn felt a pang of guilt as she realized that she had most likely been the cause of the brunette's pain.

Laying down in her yoga sweats and a Cheerios t-shirt, Quinn leaned over to kiss the corner of Rachel's strawberry lips, testing to see if she could wake her gently or if fate meant for them to wait until morning. Her pale fingers ran through Rachel's dark locks, pushing soft hair out of the girl's face as she began to stir, and Quinn rested on top of the duvet as she watched Rachel's eyes flutter open.

"Q-Quinn?" the girl asked, her voice groggy with sleep and hoarse from residual emotion. Dainty hands came up to rub her eyes like a small child as she asked, "What time is it?"

"I know it's late," Quinn began steadily, "but I couldn't stand the thought of you being upset, and I know you were earlier, so don't even try to deny it."

Suddenly, Rachel's face was hard and unreadable. "Fine," she snapped, "I was upset earlier, I'm not anymore. Is that what you wanted to hear?" The girl made a move to roll unto her other side to put her back to the blonde, but Quinn's strong arms held her firmly from doing so.

"No, it isn't," she replied seriously, "because it isn't the truth, and you never lie to me, Rachel."

"You woke me up so we could argue about this?" the diva demanded in an angry stage-whisper.

Quinn pulled the small girl closer to her, so that Rachel's angry features were inches away from her own and their bodies were nearly flush against one another's. "I woke you up, because I don't like it when you're upset with me," the blonde murmured closely. Her golden eyes delved into Rachel's, searching for answers. Quinn's fingers reached up to brush across the brunette's tear stained cheeks again. "I don't ever want to make you cry again if I can help it. Unless they're happy tears, then they can fall as often as they come, just as long as you're still smiling with that light in your eyes." She pressed her warm lips to Rachel's cool forehead for perhaps a second longer than was necessary. "Talk to me, Rachel. Help me make it better."

In Quinn's arms, another sob wracked through Rachel's body and she buried her brown head into Quinn's neck. "I c-can't," she cried pitifully.

"Why not, baby girl? Why can't you tell me?" Quinn asked soothingly. "You can tell me anything. It won't change how I look at you, Rachel. You'll be my hero no matter what, I'll always see you as perfect." The blonde rubbed Rachel's back and kissed her hair and rocked her. "I couldn't imagine seeing you any other way."

"You'll think I'm a freak, you won't want to be my friend anymore," Rachel expressed tearfully. Another sob broke from those perfect lips. "I'd like to keep you in my life for as long as possible, until I can't possibly stand not telling you anymore."

Quinn scoured her brain for something, anything, that could make Rachel so utterly hopeless and broken. "Trust me, anything you tell me will not stop me from being in your life, Rachel. We'll be freaks together, me with my borderline psychopath tendencies, and you with whatever it is that has you so worked up. Whatever it is, we'll make it through. Doesn't matter what you say, doesn't matter what you do, you know we'll make it through."

When Rachel gave no indication that she was about to divulge any information, Quinn did the only thing she could think of to make Rachel feel better. It was a song she sang to herself so often throughout her pregnancy and her summer alone and her Skank days and her PsychoQuinn stage.

_"You're not alone, Together we stand, I'll be by your side, You know I'll take your hand,_" Quinn sang quietly, conscious not to wake the others while she threaded her fingers with Rachel's.  
>"<em>Keep holding on;<br>'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through;  
>Just stay strong;<br>'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you;  
>There's nothing you can say;<br>Nothing you can do;  
>There's no other way when it comes to the truth;<br>So keep, holding on;  
>'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through."<em>

Quinn knew the moment that Rachel fell asleep again, and she didn't even mind. Rachel snuggled up closer to her in her sleep, and Quinn only detached herself long enough to climb under the covers to hold Rachel properly.

"I love you, Rachel Berry," she whispered to the unconscious girl. "There's no other way that I couldn't be." Quinn kissed the corner of Rachel's mouth again. "Sweet dreams, Starlet."

...

Morning came all too quickly for Rachel, but waking up in the warm encompassment of Quinn's arms more than made up for it. How could a single human-being, with so many flaws and faults, be so incredibly perfect? She had always wondered this about Quinn, even when Quinn had hated her. Everything about Quinn screamed perfection; from her perfect head of honey blonde, silky hair, to her deep expressive eyes, to a demure nose, to full lips that brought about a smile like the sun. Her shoulders and limbs were graceful and prestigious, and that glamour flowed seamlessly across the rest of the blonde's body across her chest and torso and hips. Whatever weight Quinn had gained during her pregnancy was clearly gone now, evident from the few inches of the girl's stomach that were visible between her waistline and where her top had ridden up. Like some sort of goddess, Quinn inspired awe and allure and admiration to everyone who saw her.

A feather-light touch running from Rachel's temple to her jaw, startled her out of her appraisal, and when she looked, she saw Quinn's beautiful, sleepy gaze staring back at her.

"Good morning, star," Quinn whispered breathily. She rubbed her gentle thumb across the worried creases in Rachel's countenance. "Tell me what you're thinking," she suggested, no trace of a command in her voice.

Rachel turned crimson and ducked part of her head under the white downy comforter in embarrassment. How could she tell the girl that was fast becoming her best friend, that she thought she might be jealous of whoever it was that Quinn wanted to… well, do to her what Santana had inadvertently done? _**That**__ wouldn't be an awkward conversation or anything_, Rachel chastised herself.

"Thank you," she deflected instead. Quinn gave her a curious look and Rache elaborated, "For comforting me and for singing me to sleep. I've never been that upset in front of anyone else before." The brunette ducked her head again. "I was glad it was you."

The dazzling smile that Quinn gave her was well-worth the strain of being honest. Quinn caressed her cheeks again. "I want it to be me that you come to when you're upset, Rachel," she answered, staring at the brunette's face but not at her eyes. "I want to be that person you turn to, that person who you know you can trust with anything." Hazel eyes flickered up to meet hers. "Because you're already mine."

As brown eyes looked down to avoid Quinn's gaze, Rachel asked, "Even if you can tell Santana something that you can't or won't tell me?"

For a brief moment, Quinn looked shocked, then angry, before deciding on being taken aback. "I didn't tell Santana," she replied. "She's kind of an evil genius, and she deciphered it for herself. I just didn't deny it."

"And Brittany?" Rachel inquired suspiciously.

Quinn laughed. "I just told you that Santana knew, you really have to ask?" the blonde chuckled. "If one knows then so does the other. They're sort of a package deal." Quinn could tell that Rachel wasn't finding any of this as funny as she was, and she sighed. "The thing… the thing that Santana and Brittany know…. It's like this," she explained finally," Santana has known me since the eighth-grade, and then the two of us met Brittany when she moved here at the start of sophomore year *(A/N: I never knew this until Yes/No, but I'm gonna go with it)*. San fell in love with her pretty much at first sight- granted, she _was_ topless at the time… but, anyway- we all joined glee together and that pretty much marked the start of our Trinity.  
>"The three of us know things about each other that we haven't even had to say out loud, we just sort of… know, in our own little ways. So I've never had to tell anyone before. Like, I've never actually <em>told<em> anyone before, I didn't have to say it out loud and wait for their reaction. And your reaction… well, your reaction matters above everyone else."

Rachel eyes registered realization of what Quinn was desperately trying to explain to her. "And you're afraid I'll react badly?" she asked.

Quinn shrugged. "I'm afraid you won't react at all or that you will, I'm afraid of the consequences that will come regardless. Because every action has some sort of consequences, good or bad."

"But I'm…" Rachel searched for the right word, "_me_," she settled on finally.

Reaching her fingers up to push away more wayward brown bed head, Quinn sighed as she looked into puzzled brown orbs. "Exactly," the blonde stated. "You're _you._" And the way that Quinn referred to the girl was with much more awe than Rachel had. "I told you last night- you're perfect"—Rachel began to protest but Quinn cut her off—"No, you are. Or, at least, _I_ think you're considerably close to it. You're almost always nice to people, you're constantly taking the moral high road, you befriend people who have made your life a hell in the past and honestly don't deserve your friendship much less anything else…. Mmphf."

The rest of Quinn's glorifying rant was cut off by Rachel, placing a hand over her mouth. The brunette smiled down at the other girl. "And you accuse _me_ of talking too much," she joked half-heartedly. A heavy sigh was blown out through clenched teeth.

Quinn felt awkward, like everything was up in the air and that maybe, if Rachel just told her what was really on her mind, then they could be honest with each other and at least enjoy a strong friendship. Having Rachel look at her like… _that_, with those big wondrous eyes full of so much emotion but so many secrets, was unnerving and it made her want to lean forward and steal a kiss from her closest friend. For the millionth time in the past few months, Quinn asked herself the same question: why Rachel? Why the girl who could offer her so much in a simple friendship, so much that she had always desperately wanted?

A ringing cell phone brought her a reprieve from her own slow self-torture, and she vaulted out of bed like a track-and-field star. She quickly snatched up the phone and accepted the call, leaving behind a slightly confused and disappointed Rachel.

"Quinn, hey," Blaine's voice echoed through the phone line. "Listen, I think we need to talk." In the background, Quinn could hear Mercedes yell, "We most certainly do, Miss Thang!" and Kurt's indignant, "Why are we always the last to know?"

"Uh… o-kay, I guess. When? Where?" she asked apprehensively, sensing that Santana was almost certainly behind this.

"Yeah, the pool on the roof," he replied simply. "Probably now would be best. Oh, and Puck says not to bring Rachel or tell her where you're going or that you're meeting us."

"Okay, yeah. I understand," Quinn answered respectfully, like she was taking a business call. "I'm on my way."

Quinn snapped the phone closed and had to contain her displeasure with her friends, as she turned around and face an inquiring look on Rachel's face.

"What was that all about?" the diva asked.

_Think on you feet, Fabray. Think on your feet._ "Brittany! She and Santana had some kind of fight last night," Quinn lied. "She wasn't me to go check on her. You know how Brittany is."

Rachel nodded, clearly not entirely convinced. "Well, maybe I should go talk to Brittany?" she asked, getting up.

"No!" _Dammit, Fabray! Keep it together. F this, this why we don't lie to Rachel. _"Uh, she also said that Shelby needed to see you about something. So… you should get dressed and go meet her."

Looking a tad distraught and not meeting the blonde's eyes, Rachel pulled herself from the cushy bed. "Um, sure… I'll just go…." She pointed to the bathroom and disappeared into it, closing the door firmly behind her.

"Fantastic," Quinn muttered under her breath. She quickly stripped out of her pajamas and into her bikini, a tank top and cut off shorts, raking a brush through her unkempt hair; she put on body spray and grabbed her sun glasses, spf, and beach towel on her way out the door.

...

She called Shelby as soon as the room was closed behind her and Shelby picked up on the first ring, clearly stating, "I swear to you, Quinn, I had nothing to do with Santana's diabolical meeting of the hearts."

Quinn seethed and held back a growl. Had Santana told EVERYONE? Or was it just the entire city of New York?

"Just for the sake of honesty, the only reason why I haven't sworn to kill that girl yet is because I don't want Beth to have a murderer for a parent," the blonde relayed angrily. "Can you do something for me?"

"If it's take Beth to see you in prison, then no," Shelby replied sternly. She then laughed upon hearing Quinn's soft snicker. "What do you need me to do?"

"Um, well, in order to follow Santana's psycho plan, I had to keep Rachel out of it. And to do that… I had to lie to her, which _I hate_, but I did. So she's under the impression that you want to see her about something, which is why I called you. I'm sorry I had to get you involved."

"So… to keep a secret from Rachel, you had to tell a lie to cover up a secret meeting about that secret…," Shelby paraphrased. "Quinn, I really hope you know what you're doing."

"Actually, I have no clue. I'm kind of making it up as I go along," Quinn admitted. "And falling back on Rachel's unending forgiveness and understanding, if I fail."

There was a long time of silence as Quinn rode the elevator to the roof and when Shelby heard the ding, she asked, "If Rachel mentions it, how did you hear that I asked to see her?"

"Brittany told me. Santana and Brittany got into a fight last night and I'm making sure Santana isn't jumping off the roof for Brittany's sake," Quinn explained.

From behind her came the sound of, "Brittany and I… _what_?"

Into the phone Quinn hurriedly said, "Thank you, Shelby, I owe you," before hanging up and whirling on Santana, her eyes narrowing dramatically. She pointed an accusatory finger and began walking forward with a growl of, "You…"

Santana held her hands up in front of her defensively, but she did take a few consecutive steps backward to avoid Quinn's 'burn in hell' glare. "Hey, I gave you the option of telling Berry or the song," she griped.

Quinn's eyes were now narrowed to mere slits. "I think I might have preferred the song," she ground out through gritted teeth.

Luckily for Santana, Brittany chose that moment to bound up to Quinn and take her arm. "C'mon, Q, everybody's waiting for you." She leaned in more conspiratorially, "Please don't kill, San. She really did mean well."

"She has a funny way of showing it," Quinn hissed quietly in return.

* * *

><p>As Rachel stood outside the door of Shelby's hotel room, she could no longer deny to herself that the idea of her biological mother wanting to see her was unsettling. Shelby was volatile and unpredictable at best, and she had turn Rachel's world inside out before; the fact that she had now done the same to Quinn, in no way earned co-director of New Directions any bonus points.<p>

Before she could contemplate further, a voice came through the door and it was swinging open. "Were you planning on knocking or… did you think that you inherited your sixth sense from me?" Shelby's voice bubbled as she stepped out of the room. Her eyes- _Rachel's_ eyes- sparkled with anticipation.

Instinctively, Rachel took another step back and looked at her mother. "Actually, I was debating the level of Quinn's disappointment if I had to admit to her that I hadn't the gall to knock on your door," the younger brunette responded matter-of-factly.

Shelby nodded, her years of acting the only thing concealing the guilt she felt at Rachel's admission of being reluctant to see her. She made a split-second decision in her head, throwing caution to the wind as she told Rachel, "Come on, there's something I've been wanting to show you for a long time."

Suspicious though she was, Rachel accepted the hand that her mother held out to her, and the two made their way out of the hotel.

* * *

><p>As they all gathered around a glass patio table on the rooftop pool area, under the shade of the wine-colored umbrella, Quinn had to fight the urge to hurl herself across the table and tackle Santana into the aquamarine depths of the water. She could ever recall wanting to kill her best friend that much.<p>

There were seven of them, excluding Quinn herself; Santana and Brittany, Kurt and Blaine, Mercedes, Puck, and Sam. They all held glasses of soda or fruity drinks as they sat around like they were at the coolest board meeting ever. In a rare moment of conscious poor judgment, Quinn seriously wished that Puckerman had smuggled some booze into this equation.

No one was sure who should start, but they were all sure that it _shouldn't_ be Santana, so it was surprisingly Brittany who chose to take the lead from her girlfriend. Her azure gaze held Quinn's as she opened her mouth to speak.

"You're not happy with us, Q," she stated obviously, and if it hadn't been Brittany who'd said it, Quinn might have rolled her eyes. "We get that," the blonde continued. "We really do, and we don't want you to feel like we're holding an… intervention?"- she looked to Santana to make sure she'd used the correct word and Santana nodded and smiled encouragingly- "right, an intervention… on you. Or something like that. But we're also not blind." Those childlike baby blues begged Quinn to understand, and the latter blonde could feel her irritation slipping away.

Blaine sat forward, his glance silently asking Brittany if he could cut in, and Brittany smiled a yes. Quinn liked Blaine, probably for the same reason Santana did. Blaine knew that Brittany wasn't ignorant or clueless like most people did, and he treated her with the same- if not more- respect as everyone else. He was nice and polite, easy on the eyes and pleasant to be around, and, if Quinn was honest with herself, he kind of reminded her of a male version of Rachel.

So when the former-Warbler turned his gaze on her, she didn't feel threatened or defensive. When he spoke, he spoke concisely. "You want what's best for Rachel, Quinn, you've proven that by bringing her here and supporting her through the competition, by not giving up on her," he said. "We only want the same. And we think what's best for her… is you."

"You care about her a hellavu lot more than Hudson, that's for sure," Puck put in quickly with his normal brash manner. Then he softened, and regarded Quinn with the same gaze he had when he was with Beth. "You're my best friends, Fabray. You bring out the best in each other. So tell her already, don't wait until you have to Taylor Swift her wedding or something."

Everyone stared at the boy for his way of putting that, and he shrugged with an utterance of, "What? Chick's got a few good tunes, and she writes 'em all herself. That's impressive."

Quinn shook her head at the father of her child. This was the reason she would never regret having Beth, not only had she brought a beautiful little girl into this world, but she had done so with her best friend. Because, somewhere along the journey, Noah Puckerman had become her best friend. Aside from possibly Rachel. The fact that he came second only to her brown-eyed brunette said something.

"Quinn," someone called, and immediately everyone's attention turned to Sam. The blonde boy might have blushed, but he was clearly putting up a good front. "Why _haven't_ you told Rachel yet? I mean, if it's that obvious to all of us and clearly we accept you… it's obviously not that, so what _is_ it?"

That was the million-dollar question in Quinn's opinion. I warranted some serious contemplation, and she was thankful that the others were willing to wait patiently for her to give justice to her answer. Where should she start? Because there were a myriad of reasons why she hadn't told Rachel, why she still believed she _shouldn't_ tell Rachel.

"It's common knowledge that Rachel and I have a complicated history," Quinn began with carefully chosen words. "There are a hundred reasons why telling Rachel would be wrong… but they all kind of boil down to one huge reason." The blonde met the eyes of her friends seriously, daring them to argue her. "I don't deserve Rachel, and I don't want to lose her either."

Everyone was completely silent upon hearing this, each lost in their own thoughts and doubts. Some saw truth in Quinn's statement, while others saw glitches in her reasoning. Still, no one wanted to debate with her, no one aside from one.

"That," Kurt began enunciating all of his words, "is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard." The porcelain-skinned boy looked somewhat reproachful and incredulous, though Quinn couldn't decide which was more dominant.

But Kurt's comment broke the dam for the others and they all started talking all at once, until someone whistled sharply. The others rubbed their ears and glared at the Latina, who shrugged her shoulders looking decently sheepish. It was only then that they realized that Santana had been the only one yet to speak.

Quinn expected her face to be smug or amused or even disgusted, but Santana wasn't any of those. In fact, she looked downright sympathetic and downtrodden. "Quinn, look," she began, "whatever you- _we -_ have done to Rachel in the past… she's clearly forgiven us. Maybe too easily," she added in quickly as the blonde began to protest, " but she has. You and I were horrible vindictive bitches to that girl, we were hell bent on ripping apart her spirit and destroying her and everything she stood for, but now… we deal with regretting that mistake everyday, and she knows it.

"You love her, more than I've ever seen you love anyone, and she's been happier since you two got close than she's ever been before. You know it, we know it, hell! Corcoran knows it. It's time to let her in on it too."

There were tears in Quinn's eyes as she turned to look out over the City's skyline. From up here, she swore she could see almost clear to New Haven, and she knew that Santana was right. She was a different person than she had been three years ago; too much had happened for her not to be. She'd fallen from the top of the pyramid twice, had a baby that she'd had to give up, fought with herself over so many things, dyed her hair pink and pretended that she didn't give a damn to hide from the pain, met her daughter, screwed up everything and nearly lost it. Then Rachel had happened to her, and given her the hope she needed to pick herself back up and turn her life around. Now, thanks to Rachel, she had everything but the girl.

"How?" she asked finally, looking to Santana for some sort of guidance.

The signature smirk returned to the current HBIC's face. Santana turned, grabbed a drink in a funky glass off one of the maitre d's trays and slid it across the countertop to the blonde. "First things first, you need to drink that," Santana instructed her. The Latina turned her gaze to Puck and the boy begrudgingly looked around and pulled a miniature bottle of liquid from his pocket, which Santana tipped into Quinn's drink.

Against her better judgment, Quinn didn't even question what was in the bottle, she just knocked back the drink like a bottle of water being drunk by a marathon-runner. Her body stopped attempting to make her dry heave as soon as the alcohol took its effect, and she wondered idly what Rachel was doing.

* * *

><p>"What is this place?" Rachel asked apprehensively, looking around the streets as she stood with Shelby outside a slightly shabby café.<p>

The older woman gave her daughter's hand a squeeze. "Trust me. Just don't make eye-contact and act like you know exactly what you're doing," Shelby instructed her. "Remember that, as a general rule for anything you do in New York. Fake it 'til you make it."

Rachel nodded her head and followed Shelby through the coffeehouse, portraying a perfectly confident and neutral air, as if she did this all the time. The older woman took through the tables of people dining, up a staircase, directly across from the entrance and to a door at the top of the stairs. Rachel was surprised when her mother pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the door with ease.

As they stepped inside, Rachel found her breath being taken away by her surroundings. It was an open flat with windows on all sides, giving an open view of the City. At one end, a large half-circle window provided a clear sight of Ellis Island. There was a small kitchen and a comfortable-looking living area; above them, in a loft-like space that was reachable by a double staircase against one wall, was what Rachel assumed to be a set of bedrooms. As quaint and spectacular as Rachel found this place, she felt pulled like a gravitational force, to one of the walls which was plastered with pictures and newspaper clippings and sheet music.

Rachel took a closer look, startled when she recognized some of the newspaper articles as the same ones that hung on the refrigerator in her own home, taken from the Lima Register. Some were of Rachel when she was a child, announcements of singing competitions and ballet recitals, of New Directions making it to Nationals last year. She recognized one as her birth announcement, and another as Beth's. The sheet music was full of their original songs: Light Up The World and Get It Right. Pictures of Puck and Judy and Mercedes and Quinn holding a newborn Beth hung up next to a progressive of photos of Beth from her birth until very recent. Rachel noticed photos of some kids from Vocal Adrenaline- Sunshine Corazon, Aya Fraiser, and Jesse St. James- and others were taken from stills of the New Directions competitions.

Picking up one of Quinn, singing her duet "Time of My Life" with Sam, she turned the photograph over and she read the message that was written there:

_Shelby,  
>Quinn, and our new member of New Directions, Sam, were phenomenal.<br>We didn't beat Vocal Adrenaline, but we did tie with them and we're moving  
>onto Nationals in May. You would have been proud of her and Rachel.<br>If Beth is anything like you, Quinn, and Puck, she will be a wonderful singer  
>and performer. Just like Rachel, I think.<br>Keep in touch,  
>Will<em>

Rachel's eyes caught sight of another photo, a faded Polaroid picture of a young Shelby, obviously in a hospital bed, and holding a small bundle of pink flesh and brown hair and brown eyes. She almost gasped as she realized what she was looking at.

Her eyes sought out Shelby, only to find the older woman watching her point to the photo. "This is you," Rachel gulped with some difficulty, "and me… when I was…"

"Born," Shelby supplied, nodding with a faint smile on her face. "Five hours and twenty-three minutes old and you were already opening your eyes. You were quite literally born ready to take on this world."

Rachel swallowed thickly, willing herself not to cry. "When you left Lima, after I was born… you came here?" she asked.

Shelby nodded with glossy, pensive eyes. "The owners of this place had been seniors at McKinley when I was a freshmen, we were close friends and kept in touch after they graduated and moved here. After I had you… I bought a train ticket to Grand Central and it was years before I looked back," the older brunette recalled.

"Did you think about me?" Rachel found herself asking, willing her tears not to fall.

The older woman seemed almost taken aback that Rachel would even question it, but she understood. "Every single day. Every single day to this day I've thought of you," Shelby told her vehemently, so Rachel would never doubt it again.  
>She cleared her throat and her eyes and continued to explain. "After I adopted Beth, I decided to come back with here, stay here while I worked on Broadway. When Al Motta found me, I was searching for an excuse to go back to Lima… I kept feeling a pull to go back. Beth and I were happy but… there was something in her eyes… so much like Noah's…. I knew she needed them as much as she needed me. And, I'll admit, I wondered if your dads ever saw that look in your eyes after I left you with them. Mr. Motta paid me enough to keep this apartment in case I ever wanted to come back to New York, so… I packed up Beth and myself and went back to Lima again."<p>

Rachel swallowed around the building lump in her throat. "Did you love me?" she inquired carefully.

Shelby looked at her for several long moments, nodding meaningfully. "I still do."


	7. Part XII to XIV

_**So we're nearing the close. Hopefully. I'm planning on writing a Glee post-McKinley something or other, but I don't think it's going to run parallel to this as I originally thought it would. But I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this story as I have enjoyed writing it.**_

_**Also, funvince: I'm glad you caught me on that, I was wondering if anyone would. You're very perceptive. Yes, Quinn is being less and less discreet about showing Rachel affection. Consciously, Quinn isn't in denial about loving Rachel anymore, but she is in denial about being worthy of her. Unconsciously, Quinn doesn't really realize that her resolve to keep this secret hidden is crumbling, and, because she usually lapses when Rachel is upset, she can't see anything past wanting to comfort her. Basically, Quinn is obliviously getting over herself.**_

* * *

><p>Part XII- I Know Where I've Been<p>

Rachel and Shelby had lunch together, bantering about Broadway and NYADA and the competition. A few times, Rachel slipped and called Shelby 'mom', but her mother only seemed to be fazed by it the first time it happened, and after that it seemed natural.

All the while, Rachel had been texting Quinn, asking her about Santana and Brittany and their fight and what Quinn thought about an 'impromptu' performance at graduation. Rather than being offended by Rachel's divided attention, Shelby seemed amused, if a little strangely apprehensive. Rachel chalked it up to the enigma that was their new and undefined mother-daughter bond.

"What do you think about Chanukah and Christmas in New York?" Rachel asked Shelby as the two women neared the Falmont Hotel.

Shelby looked at her. "You aren't planning to come to Lima for the winter holidays?" Her voice sounded almost as disappointed as the woman felt.

Rachel beamed one of her patented Rachel Berry Mega-Watt Smiles. "Actually, I was thinking… since it seems like you've already got the perfect place to stay and my dads have kind of always dreamed of spending the holidays here… that maybe we could all do them here together this year? Noah's family rarely celebrate the holidays, your teaching status at McKinley gives you the same time off as the students, Beth is old enough to fly."

The older of the two put an arm around her daughter and returned her smile. "I think it's a great idea," she agreed.

They parted ways on the ninth floor as the elevator dinged and Shelby hugged Rachel and told her that she had to call Hiram and Judy about Beth, but that she'd see her later that day. As she watched Shelby disappear with another fond wave, a wave of elation, relief, and contentment rolled through her. Her parents (all three of them) were connecting and agreeing, she and Shelby were on their way to building a relationship, Noah and Quinn were finally playing large parts in Beth's life, her fathers had formed a unique friendship with Judy Fabray, New Directions had won Nationals, she had been accepted into NYADA, graduation was just around the corner, she would be returning to the city of her dreams in three short months, she and Quinn were incredibly close now and Rachel was sure they would remain so as they attended colleges only seventy miles apart. However, Rachel sense of completion was silenced a moment later as she watched a scene unfold in front of her, and she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach or maybe the heart.

There was Quinn, beautiful and radiant and sporting a newly toned tan, which was extremely visible due to her absence of clothing, save a rather sexy bikini. Was it bad that Rachel's amount of salivation increased by looking her _**friend**_ half-naked? she wondered. And what was Quinn doing in a bikini anyway? Wasn't she supposed to be off supporting and counseling Santana and Brittany back into their relationship bliss?

The hit to her internal organs didn't even come until she noticed that Quinn was standing next to Noah outside the boy's hotel room. The fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of khaki shorts and a pair of sandals didn't help the sensation that Rachel's heart was being ripped out of her chest and wrung out like a soggy sponge.

The two were talking and Noah held Quinn's hand in his own large one, the effect being that Quinn's hand was swallowed by his. It didn't go unnoticed by Rachel how close they were standing to each other, and then Noah brought his arms around the blonde and held her against his bare chest and Rachel's throat constricted. She finally forcefully tore her eyes away from the situation when Puck leaned down and placed his lips against Quinn's.

Rachel ran like she had never run before, back to the girls' hotel room, slamming the door behind her and dead bolting it shut. She threw her suitcase, mostly still full, onto the bed and threw her remaining clothes into it. The brunette panicked when she realized she couldn't see and everything was blurry, before she realized that there were tears obstructing her vision and she wiped them away hurriedly. A few items were tossed into her purse and the room was checked to be sure she wasn't leaving anything behind.

She got out a piece of stationary and wrote down a note to the others, apologizing. Rachel left it taped to the bathroom mirror, set her keycard on the bureau, and took her exit.

* * *

><p>"I think I burned," Quinn said, checking out her skin and the tanned she'd gotten while on the upper deck with the others.<p>

The others, who had already dispersed. Mercedes had gone to find Tina and Mike elsewhere in the hotel, Blaine and Kurt left to find Mr. Schue and ask permission to leave the hotel and visit the city, Sam had chosen to make his way to the indoor pool where he could swim a few laps in preparation for the swim team's last meet, and Santana and Brittany decided that since they had apparently been fighting that it was time for them to make up.

Quinn had been texting Rachel, who had told her a few minutes ago that mother and daughter were on their way back to the hotel, and Quinn just wanted to be in the smaller girl's presence again. Puck was headed back to the room to shower because he was around chlorine too much and the smell of it was starting to make him 'squirmy', so they decided to walk together. Quinn was especially keen to hear what Noah thought on everything, as he was her best friend next to Rachel, who she couldn't talk to for obvious reasons.

"Nah, you look fine," Puck responded, checking her out. Quinn no longer felt objectified or offended by Puck's leering, as she knew he was joking around and didn't mean anything by it. He was just Puck, and that was oddly comforting. "You look tan, Rachel's gonna go wild."

She couldn't help but scoff as they reached the boys' room. "Right, because it's obvious that she totally likes-"

"Loves," Puck interjected wickedly.

"… me back," Quinn went on as if he hadn't spoken. She put her face in her hands and muttered, "This is all going to go to hell, Noah. I don't know how to woo Rachel Berry! I mean, love ballads and grand gestures aside, what the hell _can_ I do?"

"Treat her like she deserves to be treated, Q. The way that Finn never did," Puck told her seriously. He took her hand and held it in his. "And it _is_ obvious that she loves you back. You're just missing all the signals."

Quinn narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "_What_ signals?" she demanded in exasperation. "Seriously, what signals? Because I can't think of any."

Puck squeezed her hand. " Well, for starters, she's always there for you when you're upset, she never holds anything against you, she does whatever she can and goes out of her way to make you feel comfortable."

Rolling her eyes, Quinn answered, "Puck, that's _Rachel_! That's just how she is."

The man held up his hand. "It's different how she does it with you, and I'm not done," he announced. "In glee, when you sit behind her, she always glances back for your reaction and she only looks for _your_ approval, Q. When you're upset or angry, she always moves closer to you and her hand twitches like she wants to take yours. When she sings songs, sometimes she sings them _right to_ you. When you walk through the door, her whole face lights up like a menorah. And she looks at you like you're the only one in the room, she has for years." Quinn still looked unconvinced, so Puck added with an eye roll, "Dude, she looks at you like Tina looks at Mike, Sam looks at Mercedes, Brittany and Santana look at each other, Mr. and Mr. Berry, Mr. Schue and Ms. P. …"

"Okay, okay!" Quinn yelled. She huffed and blew her blonde bangs out of her eyes, "I get the point. And I _want_ to believe you, Puck. I really do. But this is Rachel Berry. Beautiful, heart-rendering, kind, determined, strong Rachel, with those enormous soulful brown eyes and adorable mouth that never stops moving and the voice that could move angels to tears." Quinn looked down, scuffing her bare toe against the sparse carpet. "And I'm the girl who tormented and terrorized her relentlessly."

"Because you grew up brainwashed by the most narrow-minded Bible-pounder in Ohio and you felt threatened by everything she and her family stood for and the way she made you feel," Puck reasoned. "And, no, it's not an excuse," he said before she could voice this thought. "But it is the truth.

"And you know what else is the truth?" Puck went on forcefully. "That you screwed up—_we _screwed up—and your entire life got thrown into a new perspective because of it. That you grew up and you became independent and you started thinking for yourself, and when you did, you changed the way you treated her and you grew to the point where you _weren't_ too afraid of how you felt about her to be her friend." The Jewish boy looked down at her with the faintest tug at the corner of his lips. "The truth is, Q, that you can't change what went down with you two in the past, but Rachel's let go of all that, so that now you guys can change your future."

Quinn stepped into Puck's arms and held him with sigh. "You can be smart sometimes, you know?" She breathed in his sun block and pool water smell and imagined a future when Puck was commonly this insightful and understanding.

Quinn had made a lot of mistakes with Puck, but finally admitting that Puck was Beth's real father was not one of them, and she was thankful that Shelby had allowed them the opportunity to be in Beth and each other's lives for a long time.

"I love you," she told him, feeling safe and comfortable in his embrace. She felt him tense and she laughed out loud. "I'm not _in_ love with you. I just love you. You're my family, Noah."

After a brief sigh of relief, she heard Puck laugh with her. "Yeah, you're my family too, Q," he replied with a chuckle.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze and smiled as he leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips. It was intimate, but in an amicable way rather than romantic. There was a rush of happiness, but Quinn didn't feel anything close to the electrifying, butterflies-in-belly, whirlwind of emotions and responses that were triggered when she so much as brushed her skin against Rachel.

"I'm in love with her," Quinn said as she stepped away, like she was _just now_ realizing it for the first time.

Puck laughed. "Better go find her and tell _her_ that," he reminded her. "Does no good telling me."

Quinn pecked a kiss onto Puck's cheek and turned around and started running back toward the girls' room.

She felt liberated, euphoric, and amazed. Maybe she _wouldn't_ end up killing Santana later; for once, the girl's rarely good intentions weren't paving the road to hell, so what was the point? Quinn felt as if she had waited three long, stressful years for this. This one moment which could either be the happiness moment of her life thus far or could shatter her heart into a zillion irreparable fragments.

But, for once, the risk wasn't deterring her. She wasn't afraid or nervous or unsure. Because, for as long as Quinn had known her, Rachel was the only thing in her life that made any sense. The only constant and genuine person in her life. She was ready for this.

The card swiped through the door, and the knob turned in her jittery hand as she opened it with a bit more gusto than originally intended. "Hey, Rach!" she called out, searching around the suite for the tiny brunette. "Rach!" Long, silence moment stretched on, and Quinn scoured the hotel room for her girl. "Rachel?"

Then, she noticed it. On the reflective surface of the bureau mirror, slightly left off dead center. Quinn walked over and plucked the white parchment from the glass just as Santana and Brittany came giggling through the door. Quinn didn't even notice. She couldn't process anything past the way her heart dropped into her stomach and settled there like a lead weight.

"Q?"

She was never sure which girl the sound came from, because it brought her back to reality and soon she was racing around the room, throwing on a skirt that she wasn't even sure was hers and a most likely mismatching top. Quinn bolted out the door, leaving her friends behind without answering their calls.

The elevator wasn't fast enough, and she gave up on it after only a second, choosing to take the nine flights of stairs three steps at a time. She hadn't run this fast since Zizes put up those Lucy Caboosey posters to ruin her prom campaign. Her heart still seemed to be beating rather strongly, wherever it now was in her body, but Quinn could feel nothing but sheer panic and heartbreak.

If there were people looking at her when she reached the lobby, Quinn never registered it. She looked around wildly for a small-statured brunette with a hot pink, gold star-bedazzled suitcase. How hard could she possibly be to pick out?

_Dammit, she's gone,_ Quinn thought angrily. _I never should have lied to her! Stupid Santana. If Rachel gets on a train or a plane, I'm going to kill her. I bet she thinks she's being dramatic and clever, if she thinks that this is funny—_

Quinn froze mid-thought. Train. Dramatic. Funny.

"Oh my God, I _am_ _**going to kill HER**_!" Quinn screamed out loud.

The objective part of her mind that was still thinking rationally reasoned that at least she now knew where Rachel was. The wild, emotional, uncontrolled part of her mind was telling her reason to shut the hell up because this wasn't remotely acceptable.

_Grand Central_, Quinn thought. _I've got to get to Grand Central Station_.

….

* * *

><p>Part XIII— I'll Go Wherever You Will Go<p>

Rachel was waiting for her train to take her back to Ohio when someone caught her in a strong grip and she nearly screamed. Her eyes followed the arm up to a shoulder, a neck, a familiar face, and then to a pair of glaring gold eyes. She didn't think she'd ever seen Quinn so riled.

"Quinn," she choked in shock. "What—?"

Quinn's panicked angry eyes bore deeper into hers. "If you thought that I was going to let you get on a train _alone_, without telling me where you were going, you were dead wrong, Rachel Berry!" she snapped loudly. Rachel thought she saw tears in Quinn's eyes.

Anger and resentment bubbled up inside of the brunette, and hell hath no fury like Rachel Berry's scorn. She jerked her arm from Quinn's grasp and pushed the girl away. "I didn't know I needed your permission, Fabray!" she sniped. "But, just for the record, why the hell do you even care?"

The blonde took a half-step back like Rachel had slapped her across the face, which was exactly what those words had felt like. "What do I care?" she demanded affrontedly. "What do I care. Hmm, let's see…"—Quinn paused in mock-thought—"Oh yeah! I care about you, you crazy person! And I understand that this whole coming-to-Grand-Central-Station-in-defiance is very 'Don't Rain On My Parade' and all that, but why? Why would you run away?

"If you wanted to see Grand Central Station, all you had to do was say, 'hey, Quinn, I wanna go sing Barbra in Grand Central Station!', and I would have been all 'cool! Let's do it!', so I know it isn't that."

"When would you have had time for that in between lying to me and sleeping with Noah Puckerman?" Rachel accused loudly.

Quinn was silent for a moment, trying to process Rachel's allegation. She knew that Quinn hadn't been with Santana and Brittany. Okay, Rachel was incredibly intelligent and could have easily figured it out all on her own, much less if Shelby had let slip. But sleeping with Puck? What. The. Actual. Hell?

Rachel was about to turn away, but Quinn grabbed her again. Rachel angrily shook her arm off and Quinn held her hands up in a placating way.

"I admit to lying to you, but I can easily give you a reason for it," Quinn stated carefully. "But where did you get the idea that I slept with Puck?"

The brunette's eyes burned into hers, but Quinn simply wouldn't back down or turn away. "I saw the two of you kissing outside his hotel room! Despite popular misconception, I'm not incompetent, Quinn."

"You saw that?" Quinn cried. A million gears were shifting in her head. Oh God. "Did you hear the conversation? Is that why you're angry? Or… why else would you be angry? Unless… oh jeez. _Please_ tell me you don't have feelings for Puckerman."

Rachel pushed Quinn away again as the blonde came toward her with pleading eyes. "No! But apparently you do!"

They were beginning to attract attention, and Quinn motioned for Rachel to follow her into an alcove of the station where fewer people could look at them oddly. She gently pulled Rachel to sit down beside her on a bench.

"Rachel…" Quinn couldn't even be sure of what to say. Of course Rachel was wrong, how could she be when it was _her_ that Quinn had feelings for?  
>She dropped her head back and groaned. "Rachel…. You just said so <em>many<em> things that I now have to clarify." Quinn paused, steeling herself for a slew of explanations. "First of all, I am _truly, deeply_ sorry for lying to you and for breaking your trust, but I did not lie to you to have sex with Puck and I _was_ with Santana and Brittany. Ask them, they'll tell you. As will Blaine and Kurt and Mercedes and Sam. Secondly, I really _do_ need to know how much you heard of my conversation with Puck, because it's really important because I just _can not_ have you finding out by overhearing that discussion." Seeing that Rachel has sufficiently settled down, Quinn chanced taking the brunette's hand and was happy when Rachel didn't pull away. "And I absolutely do not think that you're incompetent, I think you're the smartest person I've ever met and I never should have underestimated you. My feelings aren't for Puck either. Anything else I need to clarify?"

A guilty feeling settled in Rachel's stomach and she tried unsuccessfully not to start crying. She only felt worse when Quinn drew her into her and whispered reassurances in her ear, cradling her against her chest like she was the most precious thing in the world. Rachel finally managed to shake her head no in response to Quinn's last question.

"Good. Don't ever do that to me again," Quinn told her firmly. "Don't you ever run away from me like that without telling me where you're going." Rachel could feel the blonde shudder out an uneven breath. "I was so afraid of what could have happened to you. You know me better than anyone, Rachel, why would you ever think that I would sleep with Puck again?"

Rachel sniffled embarrassedly. "He's Beth's father—"

"Which should have been your first indicator that I would never sleep with him again," Quinn put in.

"You two have a connection, one that we don't," Rachel admitted. "You're always going to be tied to him, to be close to him in a way that no one else can be."

Quinn pulled Rachel into another hug and breathed in her soothing scent. "Rachel," she half-sighed with a breathless laugh. "You never have to worry about my 'connection' to Puck. Trust me, what I have with Puck is purely platonic these days. He's like family." The next part took everything Quinn had not to cry. "So, if you have feelings for him… it's okay."

Rachel pulled back and laughed, running her fingers through her hair. "I told you, I don't have feelings for Puck…. And you said neither do you?"

Quinn smiled, still keeping hold on Rachel's hands. "He's my friend. And my daughter's father. That's all he is to me."

"And I didn't hear any of it," Rachel admitted. "None of your conversation with Puck. But why does that matter so much?"

As much as Quinn wanted to tell Rachel everything then and there, Rachel was undoubtedly a hopeless romantic and, although Grand Central Station was the perfect place for Funny Girl reenactments, the same didn't hold true for declarations of love. If Quinn was going to do this, she needed to start thinking about the girl in front of her. She had one shot, and she'd be damned if she let herself screw this up too.

She stood and offered a hand out to the brunette. "If you don't get on that train to Ohio, I promise to tell you everything. No half-truths or evasive answers or ignoring questions, just the explanation that you deserve," Quinn bargained, her hand still outstretched. "All you have to do is stay here, in New York, with me."

A smile worthy of its own applause spread across Rachel's coy lips, and Quinn was momentarily lost in the depths of those brown orbs. "You're not a good negotiator, Quinn Fabray. Giving me what I want in exchange for making me do what I actually _want_ to do?" Rachel teased, taking Quinn's hand.

Quinn shrugged simply. "Maybe I _like_ giving you what you want," she replied with an equally wide smile. "You deserve to be happy." She picked up Rachel's suitcase in her free hand and led the brunette from the train station. She felt relieved when Rachel wrapped two small but surprisingly strong arms around hers.

….

* * *

><p>Part XIV— Take My Breath Away<p>

Rachel smiled as she watched Quinn pick up a stone on the edge of the vast pond and send it skipping across the surface of the water, leaving ripples in the hues of pink and gold and blue that reflected the dusky sky. Almost no one was around at this time of day, it was nearly dinner time and most families and couples had gone home for the night.

They were laughing even harder when Rachel had to vault forward and grab Quinn to keep her from falling into the pond. Quinn turned her head to look at Rachel and all laughter ceased when the blonde realized just how close Rachel's face was to hers.

"You're beautiful," Quinn murmured before she could think it through. A gasp got caught in her throat when she realized her faux pas.

The brunette smiled dreamily. "So are you," Rachel replied heavily. "The most beautiful girl I've ever met." She cleared her throat and stepped away slightly, but Quinn still held her hand fast and she had no objections to it. "Are you ready to tell me now?"

Quinn gulped and nodded, looking vulnerable for maybe the first time ever. Rachel allowed the blonde to pull her down onto the grass and they sat facing each other. She could tell this was difficult for Quinn, and Rachel squeezed her hand to reassure her.

"Um, do you remember this morning…"—God was it really only this morning? A lot really had happened today—"… when I told you that Santana… knew something about me that you didn't know only because she figured it out for herself?" Quinn asked nervously. Rachel only nodded with a rare show of patience. "Well, as it actually turns out,"- the blonde stopped to laugh nervously—"apparently everyone kind of knew before even I did. So… it was actually Blaine who called me this morning, and told me to come to the rooftop pool, but not to tell you what was going on. And I got there… after having to lie to you, which I hated by the way… and I figured out why."

"Okay…" Rachel coaxed after a moment of silence. "So… why?"

The blonde sighed. "I was so angry at them for all intervening on me," Quinn declared. "It was like… like when you're having a _really_ good day and people just feel the need to screw it all up. But then we all talked, and at first I still wasn't convinced. Meeting adjourned, everybody kind of dispersed, Puck and I were headed the same way—I was gonna go see you and he was going back to his room—so we walked together." Quinn paused, biting her lower lip tantalizingly, replaying their conversation in her head. "He talked to me about it, all mature and insightful and he put things into perspective for me; And I realized that… Beth being conceived was obviously a mistake, but it's not one I especially regret. Because yes, I had a baby at sixteen, but I had that baby with a great guy who remained my best friend, by my side even when I didn't treat him the way he deserved."

Quinn looked at Rachel with contented eyes. "Rachel, I don't deserve you forgiveness for what I've put you through any more than I deserved for Puck to stand by me while I was pregnant with his child and pretending she was Finn's." Quinn smiled with chagrin. "But apparently it doesn't matter, because you're willing to forgive me whether I think I deserve it or not,… because, ultimately, it isn't my choice—it's yours. And that just makes you even more incredible than you already are."

Rachel narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You still haven't told me what all of you were talking about."

"I'm getting to that," Quinn teased. "Just give me a minute." Quinn looked down at her hands, which were holding Rachel's as they sat cross-legged with their knees touching each other's. She was terrified suddenly and it brought tears to her eyes.  
>"What I'm about to tell you… Please, <em>please<em>, promise me you won't stop being in my life. Please, Rachel, because you make it better every single day with your sometimes annoying optimism and your amusing competitiveness and you… always being there whenever I need you. Just, please. Promise me."

A hand cupped her chin and lifted her face to meet Rachel's eyes. "Hey," Rachel laughed softly. "What's going on in that head of yours, huh? You know you can tell me anything, I love you no matter what."

Quinn's heart stopped about the time that Rachel's eyes widened dramatically as she realized the implications of what she had just said.

"You… love me?" Quinn asked breathlessly, hope evident in her voice.

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and nodded quickly, tears seeping from her closed eyelids and streaming down her face. Quinn wiped some of them away quickly.

She couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her mouth. "Rach, you have no idea how easy you just made this on me," she whispered, leaning forward and kissing away a few more of Rachel's tears as the girl's eyes fluttered open.

"What?" she asked in confusion. Shouldn't Quinn be running right about now? Laughing at her? Pushing her into the pond? Call her a freak?

But while Quinn _was_ laughing, it wasn't _at_ her, but more to herself. "Rachel," Quinn literally couldn't stop smiling, "Oh, God. Ha. The thing that I've been keeping from you, what I was talking with Santana and Puck about?" Quinn gathered Rachel's face into her hands, "Rachel, I am in love with you. So, so, incredibly crazy in love with you, and I have been for awhile."

Rachel seemed frozen in shock. "You're in love? With _me_. You're in love with _me_?" It seemed like the brunette couldn't wrap her mind around the thought.

Quinn took Rachel hands and forced her to look into her hazel eyes. "I'm in love with you, Rachel Berry," she chuckled. "I love you. More than anything, and it's okay if you don't love me back in that way. You loving me at all is really enough for me now, as long as you keep loving me and you don't go anywhere."

The smile that spread across Rachel's lips was breathtaking. "I-I don't know… if I'm _in_ love with you yet, Quinn. But there's something here, between us. I like you _a lot_, more than a friend, but I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to scare you away." She met Quinn's eyes again. "Is that alright?"

Quinn was crying even as she was laughing, happy joyous tears of relief and excitement. "It's more than I dared to hope for, Rachel. Of course it's alright." Settling down, Quinn caressed Rachel's soft cheek. "Because now? I get to make you fall in love with me."

"Trust me, that won't be hard for you, Quinn," Rachel laughed. "But I know you like a challenge…" Rachel batted her eyes flirtatiously.

"Just don't play too hard to get, okay? I'm going to want to be with you the second you say yes," the blonde told her.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Well, then eventually you're going to have to ask me the question, genius," she taunted. "Keep a girl waiting forever and she won't have to play hard to get."

There, in the middle of Central Park in New York City, as the sky grew dark and the sun was setting, there was no debate that this time, they'd finally gotten it right. All except for one thing.

Quinn sat back and Rachel crawled over to sit in Quinn's embrace, resting her back against the blonde's chest and pulling Quinn's arms around her. She felt Quinn kiss the top of her head and then her cheek.

"I have two questions," Quinn told her.

"First question," Rachel responded, turning slightly to face the blonde.

"Okay, Rachel Barbra Berry, future Broadway star and legend, will you go on a date with me?"

Rachel laughed and kissed Quinn's jaw line. "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like to consider this as our first date. Seeing as how it's kind of my dream to have someone- um, kind of especially you- declare love for me in Central Park at sunset."

Quinn nodded. "If that's what you want, then this is our first date," she decided. "Next question: Be with me."

"That's not a question," Rachel pointed out.

"No, it's not, you're right," Quinn replied. "It's a plea, for the girl I can't live without to allow me to be hers. And for you to be mine. Exclusively. No secret behind-closed-doors relationship, no casual dating, no half-friends half-something else. Just us; me as yours and you as mine."

Rachel snuggled further into Quinn, tucking her head under the blonde's chin. "Quinn Fabray as mine and no one else's? When am I ever going to get an offer like that again?" She placed her hand on the side of Quinn's neck. "Yes. And now I have something to ask you."

"Okay?" Quinn questioned.

"Are you gonna kiss me or not?" Rachel demanded impatiently. " 'Cause, if you're not, the deal is of— Mmm…"

Rachel sighed into Quinn's lips, which were now pressed against hers in the most earth shattering, phenomenal, heavenly kiss ever. Their lips moved together perfectly, like they'd been kissing each other all their lives and yet it still felt like a first kiss. There was heat and adrenaline and emotions swirling as they pressed into each other as much as the laws of physics would allow.

_**The End.**_


End file.
